


Ghosts of His Past

by The_Dorkzilla



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Drama, Lots of Sex, Multi, NSFW, Sexual Themes, Suspense, Violence, explicit - Freeform, murdoc on the run, post phase 3, pre phase 4, very heavy drug use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:42:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 74,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25691509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Dorkzilla/pseuds/The_Dorkzilla
Summary: Plastic Beach was a cock up he had barely escaped.  Now laying low, Murdoc is simply trying to survive and what better place to hide out than Hawaii?  But paradise is not what it seems.  Someone or something has located him.*** story set in between Phase 3 and 4.  due to the convoluted nature of the end of Phase 3 leading to Phase 4, the story might not follow the canon lore 100%, but it's all messed up and inconsistent anyway so it's fair game***
Kudos: 11





	1. Running Man

From above him, he could hear the explosions and gunfire. Instinct said to keep running, get to where the sub had remained hidden this whole time. Get in there and get the hell out of this bloody nightmare. It was done, finished. Get out while he still could. And though some distant voice of reason screamed about those he was leaving behind, the coward in him pushed him forward, his labored breathing and footfall the only sounds in the narrow corridor that led to the hub where he kept the sub. He had to get his arse out of there. There was no other choice. He had narrowly escaped being blown to a million bits by the incoming pirate hoard. And even down in the bowels of Point Nemo, far from the mansion above, he was certain he could smell smoke and fire. He was huffing and panting loudly as he continued to run. If he stayed, he was as good as dead. The Boogieman had found him, aligning itself with the pirates he had fucked over through the years. Had him cornered now with nowhere to really go. He should have known better. Couldn't run forever.

The hallway shifted beneath his feet, the impact of something big reverberating through the island of junk. He could feel the island moving, tilting with the impact. He froze dead in his tracks, hands braced out against the walls. The bags that were slung over his shoulders across his back seemed heavier, increasing in weight with every moment he stalled. If things worked as planned, he could escape and nobody would be the wiser, right? The impostor, a stand in created using his own skin and hair, was nothing more than a flesh and blood phantom, a clone to hopefully throw the pirates and Boogie off his tracks. It had been a stroke of luck to find the spell in one of the books he kept. It had been so long since he'd performed any kind of spell out of that battered old thing, he had almost been terrified it wouldn't work. Given his shaken state when he’d started the spell, who could blame him! But it did work, thank the good man below. It had worked beautifully. Alive long enough for Murdoc to ensure it was his exact double. Mute and almost catatonic, a few noises escaping from it as Murdoc carefully examined the creature. The tattoos were there, along few moles that he was aware of. Even a few he wasn’t aware of – did he really have a big hairy mole on his arse cheek? The clone was impressive enough. It even had the old and scarred track marks on its arms. A perfect double. Murdoc had changed clothes quickly, throwing the clothing he was wearing onto the twin before pulling a gun and shooting the creature in the head. Well enough. Make Boogie and the pirates believe he had offed himself. From there he decided to pack up some of the books, including the most important of them all, and made a run for it down another secret corridor that would take him to the hub.

The island shook again as something large hit, this time the island tilting, his footing sliding out from under him as he scrambled to keep himself from falling down and sliding down the hallway. He hit the floor in a heap, his hands frantically reaching for purchase. The movement ceased, Point Nemo slowly righting itself once again. Now he was hearing noises down below him, down where he'd been keeping his singer. Odd sounds, like structure breaking apart. Murdoc pushed himself upright, listening around him. There was so much noise going on around him that now it was hard to figure out where it was all coming from. The pirates were still firing at the island, at those who remained to fight. The Boogieman had its forces also readying themselves for attack, its other-worldly soldiers spitting images of the back up musicians he'd hired to assist him and 2D with the whole Plastic Beach Live thing. The pirates wanted his head and Boogie wanted his soul. He wasn't about to give up either.

Though he was confident that neither Boogie or the Black Clouds would find the secret corridor that led to the hub, it was not a risk he was willing to take by lingering and waiting. Considering the sounds, the island's movement and the smells around him, he was pretty sure that Point Nemo was going down. This was it. And that attack had come out of nowhere, hadn't it? He and Stu had been in the lighthouse, toying around with the ham radio to promote that silly iPad album thing that the Dent-head had made when the planes and helicopters had swarmed onto the island, bombing and firing away. He had bolted, only vaguely aware that Stu was following, but they'd split up once outside the lighthouse. Face-ache had gone downstairs to his room, Murdoc had made a mad dash for the study. The Cyborg was already firing at the pirates from the rooftop balcony and amidst the smoke and gunfire, Murdoc had seen the Boogieman on board that decrepit old ship, simply standing there and watching them.

Murdoc frowned, pausing just outside the secured door to the hub. When the Boogie conjured the apparitions, he had decided that sticking around to see the rest of this display was not in his best interest. Though he’d barked at the Cyborg to cease fire and follow him, it hadn’t moved from its place. Not interested in fighting with the blasted thing, he had rushed to the study to grab some things before escaping to the secret war room to conjure up the clone and then through a narrow passageway, his back laden with all he felt he needed. The pirates would most likely be too stupid to find the unmarked doorway that led to the hallway he was now in, but Boogie wasn't and Murdoc knew he had to hurry his arse up if he wanted to live and see another day. His one hope was that the impostor he'd created and then killed would throw them off his tracks long enough to get himself out of this fresh hell.

Throwing open the door to the dark and musty smelling hub, he could see the silhouette of the submarine just in the distance. He was unwilling to turn on any lights lest the pirates had somehow made it to the war room and saw the surveillance monitors. Moving through the dark, he felt his boots make contact with the rickety ladder that led to the top of the sub. He climbed quickly throwing open the top, uttering a squawk of surprise when he realized the Cyborg was already in there. “Where the hell did you come from?” he muttered, shaking away his surprise. It didn’t respond, simply sitting in the driver’s seat with the controllers in its hands. Whatever, it was there and this wasn’t a bad thing. The bucket of bolts was a useful thing to keep on hand, especially given its weapons knowledge and ability to drop any potential threat.

He dropped bags and cases into the sub soundlessly. Slipping in, he pulled the top shut behind him, securing it tight. He stood there in the darkness, listening intently. In spite of the several inches of steel and distance between where he stood and the attack, he could still hear the gun fire and explosions above. Okay, so far it appeared most of the fighting was still above water. Shoving the Cyborg out of the driver’s seat, he dropped into the seat and started firing up the dash and controls. Time to blow this pop stand, as the saying goes.

The sub slowly started to light up, coming to life with a low humming sound. Murdoc grabbed the controls, pushing the lever forward and bracing himself as the sub descended beneath the surface of the water. A few feet below the surface was the opening that meant escape and survival. Propelling it forward, he watched as the darkness lifted and soon he was just outside the hub, alongside the island. The sun blasting down on the water cast the world around him in a dull blue glow. And now in the light, he was witness to what was taking place, seeing bits and pieces of debris and other rubble falling through the water as they made their graceful journey to the bottom of the ocean. The plastic palm trees, pieces of the mansion, random chunks of some of the pink encrusted island itself. Murdoc let out a low groan as a massive section of the mansion – the studio – drifted past him, taking with it millions of dollars in instruments and equipment.

Pushing the little sub into gear, he slammed back against the seat as it surged forward, dodging and skirting the pieces of his precious hide-away that were all around him now. Just above, he could even see the flashes and what appeared to be the orange-red glow of flames. He shook his head, muttering under his breath as he lit a cigarette and continued forward. Part of him wondered if he should go back and try to rescue the Face-ache and both Lards and Noods, but he couldn't bring himself to it. Fear was over-riding any solid feelings he had for them. They should know by now that he only looked out for himself, right? He hadn’t made it this far in his life worrying about every other sorry sod out there. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the whale circling around, moving in towards the island at speeds that puzzled him. Slowing the sub, he spun the tail end, now staring at the distant shadow that was once his precious Point Nemo. The whale was heading straight towards the island, mouth agape. Was it really attacking the island? It seemed to defy any reason, but everything about what was going on defied any reason. Dark forces were what kept his arse safe and brought them all to fame, dark forces were what kept the whale in close to keep the Face-ache in check. So, now that those dark forces were turning against him, it would make sense that it would mean the whale would as well.

“No fucking way,” he muttered, exhaling smoke and watching as the whale grabbed onto the narrower base of the island, tearing at it, the underwater world exploding in a cloud of pink matter, bubbles and more debris. This was really the end, wasn't it? Ol' Stu was gone unless the lanky bastard had managed to escape his underwater room. And quite honestly, he wasn’t convinced that Noodle and Russ could fight off or escape the pirates and Boogie. Goners, the whole lot. And he would be too if he didn't get his narrow arse into gear and got the fuck out of range. Uttering a sigh, he directed the sub back around and moved onward. Just like with El Manana, someone close to him was taking the fall for his own dealings. Normally, this realization wouldn't have troubled him, but this was at a much grander scale. And it involved those who'd stuck it out with him at his worst. People that he did consider friends. He was a bastard, that's what he was. Chances were, they'd need him the most because of what he knew of the dark forces and here he was high-tailing it as far as he could.

No time to dwell on it, just keep moving. Mourn their loss later once he was far the fuck away and safe.

When he was certain he was a safe distance, he slowly maneuvered the sub to the surface, staring out the partially submerged window with his mouth hanging open, seeing nothing in the distance but a great orange fire-ball, black smoke traveling skyward. Surrounding the inferno were bits and pieces of burning debris, the dark silhouette of the ghostly pirate ship just barely visible beyond the smoke. Lighting another cigarette, he smoked it in silence, watching the armageddon taking place before his very eyes. Though he had his doubts, there was some small slivers of hope that Stu, Noodle and Russ had escaped. The ship in the distance appeared still and unmoving as the island erupted into another fireball, collapsing within itself, the black smoke pouring from it as it started to sink to its watery grave. When the last remnants of smoke vanished from sight, the ship finally started to move, traveling slowly. It took Murdoc a long moment to realize that it was circling the smoldering remains that floated at the ocean's surface and heading straight in his direction. Scrambling, he grabbed at the controls, ready to push the sub underwater and as far away from the ghost ship as possible. He pushed the sub as far down as he dared, resting a good couple hundred yards below, the cigarette now smoldering on his lip, the ash nearly half the length of the cancer stick. He kept his eyes above, seeing the faint dark shape of the ship’s underside. Did Boogie not take the bait and realize he'd made a run for it? The ghostly minions of Boogie, perhaps?

Christ, did it even matter at this point? And why the hell was he just sitting there? Was he waiting for whoever was operating the ship to hop aboard his sub, give a handshake and introduce themselves? Whomever it was, they most likely weren't hoping to catch up with him and arrange an afternoon tea. If he wanted to get out of this in one piece, it was time to move on. Gorillaz was done anyway. Chances were, everyone else was dead and gone. Sure, he could always form a new band, but it wouldn't be Gorillaz. Not anymore. He had barely made it by the skin of his teeth with the last album. He couldn't pull off another fraud as Gorillaz, no matter how well put together they'd be.

A deep frown settled onto his face as he flipped a few of the controls and pushed the lever forward, the little submarine springing to life and jerking forward hard enough to slam him back into his seat and hear the Cyborg tumble backwards behind him. Relaxing his tense muscles, he kept his eyes forward, the underwater world moving past him as if he were rushing down the wrong way of a motorway. The sunlight above sliced through the water, reflecting off the passing fish and even off the glass of the sub's massive front window. From behind him, a brilliant white flash illuminated the watery world around him, the fish suddenly lost in the blast. Even underwater in the sub, he heard a muffled explosion from somewhere above, the bright white light consuming all around him, blinding him. Cursing loudly, Murdoc grabbed at the controls, the submarine shaking hard in the aftershocks. What the bloody hell was that? He was unaware of anything above water that could affect those below.

The brilliant white light was receding, his vision clearing. It was like he'd never moved, everything paused in their motions. Like time itself had stopped. He pushed himself off the seat, looking around with wide eyes. Even the bubbles were frozen in time. How odd was that? Everything was so still, calm and peaceful. It took him a long moment to realize that even the sub was still, caught in suspended animation like the rest of the sea life around him. How was it that everything had stopped and yet he was moving around, unaffected?

There was another flash, brighter than the one before, his eyes burning as he stumbled back into his seat. Sweet fucking Satan, it was burning through his closed eyelids. Searing his retinas and blinding him, no doubt. An odd rumbling noise seemed to fade in and out in his hearing, finally growing louder and louder echoing within his head, smothering his thoughts and all the other sounds around him. Another flash exploded in the white, the world coming back to view, the submarine quaking violently, the force of the shaking knocking him back into his seat. The fish had evaporated in the wake of it all, nothing left but pink stains in the water. The sub had been jolted sideways, the engine dying. The Cyborg had somersaulted forward, now laying at an odd angle with its arse up in the air. He sat there, frozen in place, staring out the glass at the darkness beyond, back where Point Nemo had once stood, back where that ghastly Glitter Freeze had been. All that remained were pieces, drifting in the water now. Something else was there, a figure drifting amongst the wreckage of the ship, something glowing, just far enough to be nothing but a glowing white blur.

What could that be? He didn't know. Did he want to hang around and find out? Now what an idiotic question, of course not! Sticking around was what got him in the pickle he’d been in with the pirates attacking the island. He’d known they were coming but hadn’t given the Cyborg’s warnings much credence and lollygagged about until he had no choice but to scramble the fuck out of there with a few bags and the clothes on his back. He dropped his gaze down at the random buttons and dials on the sub, reaching out a trembling hand and flicking the switches again. His frown melted, a smile spreading across his face as the idiot lights came back to life, the engine rumbling and choking as it powered back up. With a triumphant laugh, he grabbed the lever, spinning the decrepit little sub around and pushing it forward. He’d escaped! Got out of that hell in one fucking piece! Murdoc Niccals, victorious once again! Laughing loudly in the silence around him, he continued onward. Perhaps a lengthy holiday was in order. Lay low for a year or two. Or ten. Hawaii did sound nice.


	2. Stranger In Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: DRUG USE

The sun was high above, blazing down onto him as he strolled along the sidewalk and browsed the shops casually. He was in no real hurry, unconcerned with time or destination. He just wanted to browse and be left in peace. Dressed in a pair of bermuda shorts with a bright and gaudy Hawaiian shirt topped off with a wide brimmed sun hat and sunglasses on his face, he was mostly unrecognizable. He’d adapted well to the sunny island life now living there for the better part of eighteen months. Nightlife was something to behold but it had also made him acutely aware of the fact that the modern nightlifers were half his age. Young soft things that danced and writhed against each other on the dance floor and having no interest in chatting it up with the weird forty-six year old man who nursed his drink carefully to avoid blooming heartburn. He could remember nights where he had been able to drag home several women at once and now most of them barely gave him a passing glance. It led to him mainly keeping to the condo most nights, enjoying his hand and the steep assortment of adult movies he’d acquired. Hell would freeze over before he joined the geezers over at the far side of the condo resort to play shuffleboard or whatever the bloody hell it was called.

Murdoc lit himself a cigarette, clamping it between his teeth as he browsed through the fruit and vegetable stands. He wasn’t quite sure what he was in the mood for. Pineapple was good to mix in with the Malibu he kept stashed under his bed. Dragon fruit was another delicacy he’d grown rather fond of. He could literally cut the top off, grab a spoon and plant himself in front of the telly. Natural prepackaged delight! He smirked to himself as he continued to move down the walkway. The easiest option was to just hit up that grill stand over on the beach. Pick up some take away and head back to the condo. But what if he wanted dessert? If he picked up some fruit, he could have the Cyborg work its preprogrammed magic and whip him up a fruit salad.

The idea of the fruit salad won out and he was soon checking his wallet for cash as he picked out a few Honeycrisp apples with some mandarins and cherries. And grab that dragon fruit just in case. The vendor tried to pull him into some small talk, something he’d never been a fan of. “Sprechen sie nicht Englisch,” he mumbled as he handed the vendor a few crisp bills. “Err...entschuldigung.” The vendor stared at him a moment before shrugging and taking the money offered. Easiest way to keep people from talking to him. His German was rusty, but manageable enough that most of the Americans he encountered couldn’t really hear the crisper accent that colored it. Just as well. The whole point of laying low was to avoid notice, was it not? And lucky for him, most of the folks on the little island barely gave him a passing glance.

Tipping his hat in thanks, he strolled down the walkway and continued to puff on his cigarette. It was a great day for a swim too. Something to consider later. But first thing first – get back to the condo and toss the fruit at Cyborg so it could get to work on his fruit salad. His gaze drifted towards the beach and he couldn’t help but smile as he admired some of the lovely things prancing through the sand in their barely there bikinis. People watching had always been a favorite past time but he had to be more discreet about it nowadays thanks to neanderthals giving him grief over ogling the wifey or their precious daughter. Perhaps if they didn’t let their women run around half fucking starkers then people wouldn’t ogle! There was a gem of a thought! At least he wasn’t hitting on them, right? Last bird he hit on had scared the daylights out of him because though she was as tall as him and fit as hell, it was revealed that she was only around fifteen. No fucking thank you. Adios, lil’ girlie. Remember when you could actually tell how old a bird was and not need to check their blasted ID the moment they got your nob hard? Granted, it was easier when you were in a club because at least you had some guarantee they were over the age of twenty-one.

His smile melted into a slight frown as he veered away from the beach and towards the walkway that cut through some thicker vegetation. Fuck, he needed to get laid. Last time had been maybe a year ago, shortly after he’d arrived at the Hawaiian islands. It had been fucking deliciously good and he’d had the woman screaming by the time he’d finished, but once he’d gotten what he wanted, it was time for the slag to shove off. Though she’d sputtered and cursed at him, he hadn’t given a toss because his balls had been drained and that had been all he cared about. Karma must have had it out for him because apparently his charm and cock size did nothing to impress the women here. He actually had to _talk_ to them and _get to know_ them and he just didn’t have time for that rubbish. Fucking balls, that’s what it was!

The condos were low slung single level units that wrapped around a nice little pool and secure gates. They didn’t look like much on the outside, but inside provided him with a solid fifteen hundred square feet of living space. Modern kitchen, two spacious bedrooms with the master room having vaulted ceilings and its own full sized bathroom. He had his own patio just outside a sliding door where he could smoke and read in peace. Other than the birds and maybe the occasional low drone of aircraft overhead, it was blissfully quiet. He was probably one of the youngest residents but this just made keeping to himself even easier. Able to come and go from the condo and not worry about some old codger dragging him into small talk or, Satan forbid, some aging relic of a woman trying to put the moves on him. Granted, maybe getting laid by one of those relics wasn’t such a bad thing? He was gagging for action at this point and there appeared to be no relief anywhere on the horizon. Hell, even the fucking Cyborg had started to look half arsed decent to him and he knew it had been too long if that blasted bucket of bolts was starting to look good enough to shag.

Some of the neighbors had raised an eyebrow at Cyborg and he’d shut down a few questions by saying it was a mail order bride and to be careful because they couldn’t speak English. Cyborg had been given strict orders to not communicate with anyone but him. He couldn’t risk anyone figuring out who he was. This had also meant changing up their appearances – both of them. Cyborg had been fitted with some plain cotton capris and a pastel colored tee, its hair trimmed back enough to expose its glassy green eyes. He had even applied a bit of make up on its face so it didn’t look so pale and dead to people. For himself, this meant getting a full haircut and he’d watched in the mirror with tears in his eyes as Cyborg gave him a modern cut more fitting for his age. He’d also sworn off touching up the greys with dye and after a half a dozen touching up cuts, he was mostly grey now. To be quite frank, he hated how he looked. He looked fucking old. As far as he was concerned, he might as well mingle with the geezers over at the shuffleboard court. The shag cut he’d sported had been his fucking trademark but if he wanted to lay low and avoid notice, his best course of action had been changing up his appearance.

Upon opening the door to his condo, he was immediately greeted by the Cyborg with a glass full of ice and rum. Removing the sunglasses and sun hat, he took the glass with a nod and sauntered towards the kitchen. Hunter, a black and white short haired cat he’d brought home impulsively one night from the local shelter, was already at his feet and rubbing against his legs, yowling for his food. “Gimme a minute, Bubs,” Murdoc muttered as he took the fruit from the bag and set it aside. He’d never been much of a pet person really, but one evening he’d decided to visit the shelter and had actually been a bit amused at this lanky and goofy little black and white tuxedo kitten who yowled at him every time he moved away from the cage. Deciding he needed a flesh and blood companion, he’d decided that the little guy was coming home with him. Hunter was a strangely affectionate cat, something Murdoc had been unprepared for, but he accepted it. It was actually nice to sit in his chair to watch the telly with Hunter sleeping behind his head. What had tickled him the most was how the cat responded to him, as if he was actually talking. He’d ask a question to the air, more to himself than anything, and Hunter would be right there yowling his response.

Smiling, he reached down and gave the cat a few scratches on his head before returning his focus to the fruit. “Oi, robo-doodle, how about you cut this up and make me an ambrosia salad, eh?” He rummaged around through a few cupboards until he found where the Cyborg had tucked away the soft cat food. Christ, the smell of this shit was atrocious, but Hunter seemed to like it enough. Picky little fucker had sent Murdoc on a Russian Roulette of cat food brands until he’d finally found a brand the hairball liked. Couldn’t be pate, only the kind with gravy and bits. As soon as he opened the can, Hunter was circling around his legs and hooking his ankles with his long tail, almost screaming at Murdoc as he dished up the foul smelling food into the plain dish. “Hold your bloody horses, Bubs...I’ve only got two hands, mate!” Imagine what his band mates would have said to him owning a cat and giving it a nickname! He paused after setting the dish down to the floor. Seemed a lifetime ago now. He chewed his lower lip, shaking his head. He couldn’t think about them. There’d been not a word about anyone since he’d escaped the attack on Plastic Beach so all he could do was assume the worst. _Fucking tosser, this was your doing. If they’re dead and gone, it’s your fault_.

Don’t think about it! They should have made a run for it. It’s their own fucking fault if they got themselves killed!

Sighing, unbuttoned the tacky Hawaiian shirt and tossed it over a chair. Okay, cat’s fed and Cyborg was working its magic in the kitchen. Time to shower and polish himself up a bit so he could waltz his way over to the local bar and grill or even that new Korean barbecue that opened up a few months back. He’d heard through the grapevine that their kimchi was pretty stellar. Ooh, that sounded fucking delicious. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good bowl of kimchi. This thought brought a smile to his face as he ventured down the hall to the master bedroom and into the bathroom, firing up the shower. Hunter appeared on his heels suddenly, mewing at him and trying again to rub against his legs as he dropped the shorts and briefs. A quick examination of his reflection only revealed a somewhat sad looking middle aged man with his hair cut too fucking short and a paunch. Sucking in his stomach, he turned so he could see how it all looked from a profile and became even more irritated. Fuck it, just shower and change and go. Not sure why he was bothering himself with these weird little insecurities now. His body hadn’t scared anyone off yet.

Standing under the stream, he took a breath. He hated the fact that he looked so fucking old now. The only good thing about the haircut had been taking on the humidity. If he’d still had his trademark shag cut, it would have been a wild and curled mess. At least the shorter cut kept his hair in order. Change wasn’t a bad thing, was it? Well, when it revealed a thinning spot and receding hairline, then it became a problem. He also hated how grey his hair had become. He’d gotten so used to coloring it on and off to touch up spots here or there, it had actually amazed him how grey it was once he’d stopped. Even his chest hair had taken on a salt and pepper look trailing southbound. Couldn’t even go a few days without shaving because he’d discovered that his facial hair was coming in grey too. Huffing, he scrubbed away the afternoon, taking in the pleasant scents of the all over body wash. Paunch wasn’t that bad. He could still see his dick. Shame even his pubes were coming in steel grey now.

Getting old was balls.

Speaking of which....he reached down and moved his cock aside, trying to crane his neck to see if the hair on his balls was also coming in grey. Upon spying a few silvery hairs, he grumbled to himself and finished sudsing himself up. Yup, getting old was definitely balls. Of course, there was that whole silver fox thing. That was a thing, wasn’t it? Loads of celebrities attracted new legions of fans because they’d aged gracefully and accepted their grey. Look at that Jeff Goldblum bloke. Everyone loved him. Christ, even that old tosser Simonon had attracted quite the audience and he was ten years Murdoc’s senior! Okay, okay, suck it up, man. Get something to eat and then maybe check out the local strip club. Pick up a bit of Colombian marching powder along the way. A pick-me-up off a stripper’s arse sounded blissful at this point.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He knew he was high. He wasn’t sure how many lines he’d done but he assumed enough if he felt like he was fucking flying with his thoughts going a hundred miles a hour. Every part of him felt great. Hyper focused now on the feel of the girl’s mouth around his cock. Fucking hell, this woman was a fucking champ! Low, pleased rumbles escaped from him as he let his head flop back against the seat of the private booth. He needed to come to this club more often. A lot of places had a no touching rule in place and it often took everything in his power not to reach out and grab their hips so he could grind against their arse. This club – thank Satan – not only allowed you to touch the girls, if you were willing to pony up extra cash, you could get more than just a private lapdance. How had he not known about this place prior? He’d gotten to know most of the strip clubs in the area, not that there were many of them, and couldn’t remember seeing this place at all. Christ, who gave a fuck? He found it and he was getting his cock swallowed and that was all he should fucking care about.

Oooh, she was massaging his balls. This was nice. Very nice indeed. He closed his eyes, almost purring as the woman continued to work her magic. Would she spit or swallow? Opening up his eyes, he reached a shaking hand out and smoothed her hair from her face. He wanted to see that pretty face swallow every inch of him. C’mon, harder. Deep throat it. Ooooh, he was so very close! She apparently could sense it too because she was now almost bent over his lap completely, her hand wrapped around him and pumping as she bobbed harder. He started to thrust involuntarily, wanting to bury his cock into her face as she moved faster, harder, oh fuck, oh shit, uuuhhhhhnnnnn. He was hitting that wall, reaching the point of no return, half growling and half crying out as he gripped her hair and plunged himself into her face as hard as he could.

It took a long moment for his vision to clear and see the narrow and dimly lit booth. The woman, whose name he had forgotten the moment she’d introduced herself, smiled at him as she stood up. “Want me to stick around?” she asked. He peered up at her through half mast eyes, brain still spinning but the rest of him blissfully numb. Though hard to tell in the poor lighting, she did nothing to hide her impatience and boredom. Another night on the job for her and nothing more. He was just another old codger looking to get his dick sucked and nothing more. Nothing special. This brought flashing moments of irritation because his memory banks brought up numerous faces and bodies that all had gushed about how spectacular he’d been, even if they only ever got to swallow his cock. This woman saw him as nothing more than a paying customer. A nameless face she might remember down the road but little more.

All the good feelings evaporated, replaced with rising agitation. He frowned and shook his head, waving her off so he could button up his pants and get himself sorted. “You’re good, love, get outa here.” He watched as the woman slipped out of the booth and left him alone with his thoughts. He could order another drink or do another line. Either one would work. Christ, the come down was going to be a bitch and he probably wouldn’t be very functional tomorrow. Not that he had any plans but it made for a rough day when it feels like you got hit by a fucking lorry. Sighing, he drained what remained of his drink and got unsteadily to his feet. Might as well get himself outside for some air. The stripper had brought minor relief and he made a mental note to himself to come back later in the week. The owner of the club should be more accommodating if Murdoc flashed enough cash. He had no shortage of cash. Offshore tax accounts allowed him to access the money earned through the years without the pesky tax collectors or other government officials keeping tabs on him. Great thing to have when you’re trying to keep a low profile.

Through a blur of half uttered farewells and another drink down the hatch, he was suddenly back out on the street. Could go and hang out on the beach or head back to the condo. Either option was workable but he couldn’t seem to make up his mind. Yeah, another bump was needed. He diverted down a narrow alley between the strip club and some other shady looking place and dug around until he found the baggy of coke he’d scored. Using his nail, he took a quick hit and tucked the drugs back into his pocket. The burn in his nostrils was fleeting, the high almost immediate. Smiling to himself, he lit up a cigarette and began to stroll down towards the beach. There was a group out there near a bonfire. Such gatherings usually got shut down by the local police department but maybe the five-oh was taking a holiday tonight because that bonfire was fucking massive.

As he got closer to the group, he saw it was a pleasant mix of young and old alike and this brought a sliver of relief. If he’d been the oldest attendee, he most likely would reconsider joining them. Closing the distance between him and the group, another familiar smell carried over the scent of the bonfire. Musky, strong as hell and oh, was he getting fond memories. Being twelve years old and lighting up his first joint. Fifteen years old with that wretched bong he’d made out of some old piping and a plastic jug. Coke was mostly out of style nowadays but some good Mary Jane transcended the eras. Besides, something to help level out the current high was in order. He slowed his pace once he was only a few yards away, watching as the group passed around the familiar glass pipe. A few heads perked up, most likely sensing his presence. The laughter died down a bit as more heads turned in his direction. A rather tall and imposing looking man stood up, squinting into the darkness. “We can see your silhouette, man, might as well step into the light where we can see ya!”

Murdoc cracked a friendly smile and stepped into the glow of the bonfire. “I mean no harm, mate. Just out strolling and caught wind of some good greenage.”

“The more the merrier, man!” the tall man cackled, scooting over on the log he’d been sitting on and clearing a space. The man was one of those aging hippy types that Murdoc usually avoided. Stringy blondish hair, balding, massive beard on his face. Dressed casually in a tank top shirt and pair of old denim cut offs with those fugly sandals that were popular amongst groups like them. But overall the man was clearly friendly enough, smiling broadly at Murdoc as he got himself comfortable. “Cop a squat, dude!” He extended a hand as Murdoc took the offered seat. “My name’s Greg!”

Murdoc grasped the offered hand firmly, still smiling. “Err...Alphonce, but you can call me Al, mate.” The other members of the gathering all waved and introduced themselves before finally passing him the glass pipe. He happily took a few tokes from it before passing it over to Greg. “Not gonna lie, mate, was a bit surprised to find you lot out here. Locals aren’t too fond of tourists camping out on the beach and usually have the police clear it out.”

Greg shrugged dismissively as he took a few tokes and then passed the pipe along. “Not too worried about it, Al. If they do, we’ll just find a new place to camp out and party.”

Murdoc reached into his pocket, feeling the baggy of coke. So they liked to party? How far were they willing to take the party? Almost as soon as he thought about offering up some of his own score, he pulled himself back. People like this were mainly about beer and pot. He drags out the coke and chances were, they’d cast him out just that quick. Coke users were a bit of a different breed and every single face staring at him looked like they’d never done a line in their life. He could feel the numerous stares on him and part of him wondered if they recognized him. Hair cut and grey hair or not, he was a unique looking man and probably recognizable no matter what he did to his appearance. His eyes surfaced from the flames of the fire, meeting a few curious stares in his direction. “I appreciate letting me join the party,” he said with another smile. “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it,” said a woman who was sitting on the other side of Greg. “There’s always room for one more.”

He remained mostly quiet as most of them chattered over one another. He offered up bits of conversation when questions or remarks were directed at him, but mainly he was just looking for more mellow company. The pot was top notch and it didn’t take long for the coke to get derailed by the green. Fleeting and rushing thoughts slowed and he felt heavy and dull. The woman, whose name he never got, kept looking in his direction and he entertained the idea of bringing her back to the condo, but realized he might have some problems if she questioned the Cyborg’s presence. She wasn’t terrible on the eyes. One of the older members of the group, but probably still younger than him. If he had to guess, he’d assume late thirties. Wild and coarse red curls pulled into a thick ponytail, flawless skin the color of mocha, full lips and massive hazel eyes. In the flicker of the bonfire, he could even see freckles across her round face. Though there was something quaintly plain about her, she was radiant and beautiful to him. Nothing at all like the bony, strung out waifs who accosted him backstage after a show. Those beasts were a dime a dozen in the world he’d lived in, but this woman was just that, a woman. Round, soft to the touch and he wanted to know if her lips were as soft as they looked.

Okay, old man, get ahold of yourself. You literally just had a stripper sucking your dick barely two hours ago. There's a good chance the hydraulics are done for the night, especially with the amount of blow you’ve been doing. Hard to deny the fact that he was lonely though. He missed having company, even if it had been just Dents or even Russ. He and Russ never saw eye to eye on things, but there’d been a weird joy in riling the big man up. And Dents...well, he was thick as a fucking stone most days, but at least he provided entertaining commentary on things. Especially if he was stoned. Stone Stu was an amusing Stu. And what about those nights he could sit out on the Kong Studio roof and smoke and talk to Noodle? She may have only been a kid at the time, but she’d had a wisdom about her that transcended her short fifteen years on the planet. They had often talked for hours. And how often had she offered her presence when he’d been flying high off some grade A speed and needed someone there to keep him grounded? Too many fucking times to count. What kind of creep had he been to rely on a little girl to keep him level? She’d been brought to him as a small child and she’d needed care and protection and all he had cared about was getting his next score, getting the next big album and someone able to keep him on planet Earth. It should have been Russel hearing him out as he ranted and raved, or even Dents, but he’d put his troubles onto the shoulders of a little girl.

For the first time in a very long time, Murdoc realized he was feeling the burn of tears. Blinking them back, he shook his head. He was not about to get emotional about it all now. He was well fucking aware that he’d done a bastard thing in abandoning them – Noodle especially – but he couldn’t change that shit now. Christ, did he miss them though. All of them. He could remember always telling the world and himself that they were merely tools to him, mere appendages to the greater machine that was their leader, but deep down he knew it had all been pure bullocks. He’d kept them around because he found their company tolerable and they all brought something great to the table as far as friendship had been concerned, to say nothing of what they brought to the band.

It took him a long moment to realized that the woman had traded seats with Greg and was offering a sympathetic smile as she held his hand in hers. He took a shaky breath and shook his head, pulling his hand away. He didn’t deserve her sympathy or concern. “Sorry, just a lot on me mind,” he mumbled in a strained voice as he wiped at his eyes. “Think I’m just a wee bit higher than I should be.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered back, reclaiming his hand. “Probably should lay off the coke. It can fuck with your head and not in good ways.”

Murdoc perked his head up with a grunt. “How did you know...?”

She reached another hand up and tapped at the side of his nose. “Didn’t clean your face off. Got a smudge on the side of your nostril.” She gestured towards a series of little ramshackle little cottages over just past the palm trees. “My hotel room is over there if you want to hang out and talk without an audience..”

He could only nod as she rose from the log and pulled him up to his feet. She was a bit taller than he anticipated, realizing she stood a good few inches over him. Never mind any of that. This beautiful woman with the red hair and mocha skin was offering him a place to crash and ride out whatever negative feelings he had been struggling with. Perhaps she would offer more once it was just the two of them alone? This idea sounded more and more pleasant as she grasped his hand and led him across the beach. Unable to resist, he cracked a toothy smile. Her arse moved with a grace he couldn’t help but appreciate. Long but well formed and strong limbs barely hidden by the stringy cotton top or wrap around skirt. Fucking breathtaking. And she was inviting him back to her room for whatever it was she had in store. Murdoc didn’t mind one bit.


	3. Don't Worry Be Happy

Though he’d shoved the obnoxious little arsehole away several times, Hunter was adamant on invading Murdoc’s bubble, oblivious to his sour expression or his white-knuckled grip on the glass of rum. He was still nursing a headache and his mouth still tasted like something shit in it. This was not how he wanted to spend his weekend but he had little choice in the matter because the accountant he used to transfer money over was closed and he was now flat fucking busted. Should’ve been more careful, he chided himself. He’d been too fucking high and emotional the other night. Too much of an easy target.

He’d awoken in the woman’s room to find himself the lone occupant with cleaning crew knocking and stepping in cautiously. The woman, his coke, his cell phone and his cash were nowhere to be found. He’d been ripped off completely. She’d even taken his fucking sandals. Who the fuck stole shoes? Oh well, jokes on them. He’d had some hellacious athlete’s foot anyway. Enjoy the itch! Didn’t change the fact that the walk home had been hell because the ground had already started to heat up. He surely looked a fright as he stumbled down the street, unshaven, barefoot and in rumpled clothing that reeked of pot and body odor. Upon reaching his condo, he’d merely slipped inside and collapsed onto the sofa with a groan, finally waking up fully hours later with the fucking headache and foul tasting mouth.

He’d never even gotten the woman’s name. There had been every intention of riding her hard and then waltzing on out of there, but before he knew it, he was on his back with her on top of him. He certainly wasn’t going to complain about the woman doing most of the work. Equality and all that shit. She’d even repositioned herself across his hips so he could fuck her arse (rare treat – fuck yes!) and it hadn’t taken much longer to reach toe curling bliss before passing right the fuck out. Should have fucking known she was going to rob him. A beautiful woman like that taking an interest in someone like him? He knew he was rough looking. It wasn’t just his mangled nose. He had pock marks across his cheeks, scars, the lines in his face etched far too deep for his taste. Of course, American birds always fall head over heels for an accent. He’d seen plenty of them present their wet cunts in his direction after a few well placed comments. This woman had merely seen a mark and nothing more, though. She hadn’t cared about his appearance or his accent. It had been all about what she could steal from him. Riding his cock had merely been a bonus.

Christ, she was gorgeous though. Might at least keep her face around for the spank bank. Especially how it felt burying his cock into her. He had a few toys tucked away for when his hand wasn’t enough. She was pretty enough that pumping into the rubber pussy and arse he’d paid too fucking much for didn’t sound too pathetic. Shame he never got a snap of her face. That would have helped.

Okay, so he was stranded with no access to cash for about forty eight hours. He’d encountered much worse so this shouldn’t be a huge obstacle. He had grown so accustomed to easy money access that he’d damned near forgotten what it had been like to have nothing but the clothes on his back. Hell, he was faring better now than back then because at least he had a roof over his head. He had food in the cupboards and the monthly dues for the condo had already been paid. He scrubbed his hands across his unshaven face and finally got up onto his feet. The room spun dangerously in his vision for a moment and he reached out clumsily for the sofa. Last thing he needed was toppling over. He still had a twinge in his back that complained a bit too loudly every now and again after he’d taken a spill back on the island. He’d been wasted, if memory served him, and had been chasing the dullard for some now forgotten transgression. Though he’d managed to get through the worst of it and could move and even still fuck like a champ, some days weren’t too kind and on those days he would spent the better part of the day laying on the floor in agony because the pills he’d gotten barely cut through the pain.

The Cyborg remained in its place over on the far side of the room. He cast it a dismissive glance as he shuffled into the kitchen in search of food and more booze. “What did you do today, doll?” he asked, looking directly at it. “Probably had more fun than me, I’m sure.”

“I require no recreation, sir,” it replied in a flat tone. “I completed the tasks you have programmed me to do and then went into the radio room to charge.”

“Did you feed Bubs?” he queried with a raised eyebrow.

“No, I did not, sir.” It turned stiffly towards Hunter before returning its cold and dead gaze back onto Murdoc. “Your orders were that you alone would feed the small mammal.”

“Eugh, reckon I did say that, didn’t I?” He chuckled softly to himself as he turned towards another cupboard and pulled out the can of Fancy Feast.

“Sir, may I ask again why you took in the small mammal?” Its question almost caught him off guard and he found himself pausing briefly as he scooped the foul smelling food into the dish. The Cyborg pointed at Hunter as he mewed by Murdoc’s ankles. “What purpose does the small mammal have? All it does is sleep and attempt to destroy the furniture. It has no clear purpose.”

Murdoc mulled over this as he placed the dish of fresh food over by where he kept the cat’s kibble and water. He reasoned it was a solid question coming from a thing that was programmed for a purpose. It did not see the benefits of possessing a pet. It only saw something that used resources but did not contribute. “Err...some people like having them around. Makes them feel less alone.”

“But you are not alone, sir. I am here as well.”

Gotta love artificial intelligence, eh, Murdy ol’ boy? Just enough control to be able to give it orders but enough sentience to realize it was more than just an appliance. A sigh escaped from him as he opened up a bottle of beer. He wasn’t sure what he could say, which was a first when you got right down to it. Chewing his lip, he perked his head up to look directly at it. “Hunter is a living thing. You are not. There lies the difference.”

It seemed to accept this explanation, nodding curtly at him and resuming its place at the wall until he had further instruction. To think he almost considered full sentience at one point. Fucking glad he didn’t. Christ, could you imagine the conversations and arguments? He could already see it plain as day. Trying to get it to clean and fix him his food and then watch it argue with him over the most ridiculous of things. It would be like having a real fucking teenager in the house! This thought made him pause and frown. Would that be such a bad thing? It wouldn’t _be_ Noodle, but it would be damned close. He’d created it to replace her so it seemed reasonable that he should try to program it to be as much like her as possible. He just couldn’t get the voice right. Though he was hearing Noodle’s voice come out of it, it didn’t have her accent or the crispness she’d come to acquire from living in Old Blighty. No matter what he programmed into it, it could never be even remotely close to his Noodle. But he couldn’t deny that the thought had crossed his mind more often than it should as of late.

Laughing bitterly, he shook his head and drained the rest of the beer before chucking the bottle into the bin. That was stupid. No way he could do it. How would he keep it from communicating with the neighbors or anyone else for that matter? He’d told everyone the blasted machine was a mail order bride and that alone had gotten a few raised eyebrows because he knew it didn’t look like a grown fucking woman. Should have said it was his adopted daughter. But that would become just as problematic because then he’d have people asking why it wasn’t it wasn’t in school, or – Satan forbid – imply he had some kind of _Lolita_ situation going on. He could be a fucking degenerate on a good day, but Humbert Humbert he was not. Imagine if some police officer or social worker showed up to do a welfare check on the blasted machine. That would be quite comical because the moment they tried to take it out of the condo, it would probably throw them clean from the island itself and back onto mainland.

Reckon tonight was a good night to stay in and watch some telly. Not like he could get out anywhere right now anyway. No money, no cell phone and the sandals that bitch had stolen had been his only fucking pair. At least she hadn’t stolen his entire wallet. Pulling it out of his back pocket, he opened it up and looked at the counterfeit driver’s license. He’d paid an arm and a leg for the fake ID and wasn’t interested in buying a new one. Probably stupid to go by his middle name, but anyone who’d known him knew how much he’d hated the name. He stared at the fake driver’s license, smiling grimly at the somewhat stupefied expression that stared back from the photo. Alphonce Giovanni Pauletto, born May 20 1963. He had never quite noticed that before, why the fuck did the arsehole who made this make him several years older? Grumbling, he snapped his wallet closed and tossed it onto the counter.

Dropping down into his sofa, he glowered at the television. He was irritated and bored and this wasn’t a very good combination. If his cash hadn’t been stolen, chances were he wouldn’t have given a toss about being stuck about the condo, but knowing he couldn’t do anything for at least two days now had him itching to get out. Maybe hunt the beach and see if that wretched thief was there with her mates? Shake them down for some of his cash. No, couldn’t do that. They’d outnumbered him and if he tried hassling her over the stolen cash and phone, they probably wouldn’t hesitate to kick his arse and leave him there to die. Decisions, decisions. Stay home, live to see another day and get money from one of his accounts on Monday or track that wench down who robbed him and get back what was his, but risk her mates deciding to use his skull for a football?

Sighing, he grabbed the remote control and snapped his fingers. Hunter was behind his head by the second snap, purring and headbutting the back of his head. Couldn’t necessarily brag that he’d trained the little bugger, but the cat was always there by the second snap which meant Hunter understood what he was wanting. Smiling, he reached behind him and gave the neutered tom cat some more scratches before surfing through the different channels. Maybe he’d get lucky and find a movie he’d been wanting to see? That would help keep his mind off shit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Though he had no way of knowing this, he knew something was watching him as he bolted across the spongy pink island away from the gunfire and smoke. Away from the fiery and shattered remains of his lighthouse studio with all those records that had taken him decades to collect. He threw himself down against what he thought might have been the front end of an old Cadillac in another life, bracing himself as he waited for gunfire to cease. The pirates were currently too busy fighting with Noodle and Russ, so they hadn’t noticed that their primary target was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t the pirates he was worried about. Not right at the moment anyway since they were distracted. It was the other entity, the thing that controlled that wretched and rotting pirate ship floating around the island. The thing that controlled those apparitions that looked too much like the flesh and blood members of the back up band from the Plastic Beach tour. The thing – the creature – that had been sent to their plane of existence in order to collect what Murdoc had refused to give them, the very thing he’d agreed to give them. He took a breath and swiped his hand across his face, flicking sweat away. Why decide to collect now? He was still going, still kicking. He could easily live a long life and then they could get his fucking soul and do whatever._

_The island rocked and bobbed in the water as the pirates shot mortars in their direction. He needed to get away. His eyes surfaced over the grill of the crusty coated Cadillac, spying Noodle tossing away an ammo cartridge and ramming a new one in place. Russel, bloated and enormous, was batting the planes away as if they were merely flies. Murdoc swallowed hard, blinking back some of the dirt and grit that floated in the air around him. He needed to get their attention. If they were going to escape in one piece, now was the time. Though he could still feel the eyes of the Boogieman on him, he staggered out from behind his shelter, waving his arms. “Oi! Noodle! Russel! Over here!” Another blast overhead made him flinch hard to his side. He peered skyward at what remained of the mansion, now mostly engulfed in flames. Parts of it were falling from its perch and disappearing into the surf. All that blood, sweat, tears and black magic now destroyed. He shook his head, returning his attention back to Noodle and Russel, screaming at them and waving his arms. “C’mon, you lot, you need to run! Follow me!”_

_The island was shaking and rocking, smoke swirling around him and obscuring his vision. He couldn’t see them, couldn’t see any of them. He looked around in a panic, the gun slung across his shoulder forgotten. Figures were stepping through the smoke. Closing in around him. The twisted apparitions of the live band members. A pale and bloody Dents, two bullet holes in his head. Noodle staggered forward, her mask half shattered and revealing a scorched face from flames and bullet holes in her body. Russel, now normal sized, but missing an arm and full of bullet holes. “No,” Murdoc moaned, shaking his head as he circled around hoping to find an effort to escape. “No, no, no! This wasn’t my fault! I didn’t ask you to try to save me!”_

_Black oil pooled at his feet, taking shape as it rose up through the air, a long and slimy arm reaching out and grasping his throat. The black oily figure revealed itself to be the Boogieman. Murdoc clawed at the hand that held his throat, croaking and thrashing against the grip, seeing his own horrified expression in the reflection of the goggles on Boogie’s head. He looked wild and feral and it took him a moment to realize he was seeing bullet holes in his head. Crying out, he craned his neck the best he could, staring down and seeing his own body laying flat on its back, dark eyes half mast and dull, two clean shots that hit him straight in the forehead._

He cried out, clawing at the air around him, more spikes of panic when he couldn’t move his legs. Half screaming and half sobbing, he thrashed across the bed and tumbled to the floor. Now fully awake, Murdoc blinked back the tears and frantically looked around, expecting to see Boogie standing right there and waiting for him. So far, the only thing out of the ordinary was the blasted cat poofed up in the corner in a defensive stance, most likely spooked from his thrashing and crying out. He took a breath, scrubbing his hands across his face as he sat back on his rump and slumped into the side of the bed. Not the first time he’d had a nightmare like that, but it had been the first one in a while. He uttered a moan, staring around the dark bedroom and catching sight of his alarm clock. Little after four in the morning. Sunrise would be within the hour. He uttered a groan as he slowly pushed himself to his feet, his back barking at him as he tried to straighten himself out. Christ, maybe he needed to look into some kind of sleeping meds that could knock his arse out so he wouldn’t dream. Or at least not remember dreaming. He’d gladly take either option.

Naked save for a pair of heart covered briefs, he stumbled out of his room and lit himself a cigarette, absently scratching at an arse cheek. Nightmares were par for the course when you’d lived a life like his. If it wasn’t nightmares about his father and childhood, it was nightmares about the people he’d crossed or, such as this most recent horror show, nightmares of seeing those he cared about. It was part of the reason he usually got himself tanked because it meant coma-like, dreamless sleep. It meant rough mornings due to hangovers, but a little hair of the dog helped that also. Take some aspirin and chase it with a bottle of some beer and call it a day. Luckily, he wasn’t dealing with any kind of headache or aches. He’d been so fucking hungover yesterday and also in a sour mood due to being robbed that getting more tanked hadn’t really appealed to him.

Right, so what’s the game plan for the day since he’d woken up at the fucking hairy arse crack of dawn? Could see about emailing the accountant. Though it was a pipe dream, there was a chance the old sod would see the email and forward an advance or something. And even if he couldn’t do anything until tomorrow, it was only another twenty four hour wait. He’d made it all day yesterday, had he not? Another day should be a snap. Maybe once the sun comes up, he could get dressed and head out for a walk or something. Get some air, clear his head of the troubled thoughts. That nightmare had scared the beejesus out of him. Though he was positive Stu, Russ and Noodle were dead, maybe he needed to do some digging and find out if any of them survived. Didn’t mean he had to reach out to them, just maybe put himself a bit more at ease. If one or all survived, would that make him feel any less like a cowardly arsehole?

“Of course not,” he said loudly to himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a stroke of luck, finding a fifty dollar bill tucked away under his laptop in the spare bedroom with the radio equipment. Couldn’t remember why he’d put it there or even when, but this meant he wasn’t flat busted and could get himself some grub and a coffee as well as a replacement pair of sandals because he was not about to walk around in eighty degree heat in boots or trainers. The little diner on the beach was a favorite spot to plant his arse and people watch on the beach. They also had a stellar breakfast plate and the best brew in town. The waitress flashed a strained but polite smile as she refilled his cup and then took away his empty plate. He felt much better now that he had some cash along with the full belly. He could have easily just stuck around at the condo and had the Cyborg make him some grub, but he’d wanted hashbrowns, bacon and some sunny side up eggs. He had none of those back at the condo.

The beach was already started to fill up with tourists and locals alike and this gave him a chance to watch the daily happenings. Tourists were easy to spot mainly because they always carried way too much shit with them and if it was a whole family, the wifey would cluck after her kiddies to keep them from getting lost in the thick of people. Locals didn’t give a toss. He’d spot feral toddlers and college kids alike tear arsing across the beach. When you live in a beach town, swimming was second nature. Hell, he could see some unattended kids in the surf already. Sink or swim, mates, it’s the way of the world.

Tossing some cash onto the table, he got out of his seat and started strolling down the beach. There were definitely some tasty numbers out and about today. He even found himself admiring a rather muscular bloke lathering themselves up some sunscreen. Hmm, not bad on the eyes, mate. He chuckled to himself and continued along. The further down the beach he went, the fewer people there were. Tourists tended to keep to areas near food and hotels. Locals often looked for more secluded spots. A few kiosks were scattered up on the edge of the beach, hoping to hock their wares to the public. Murdoc glanced at a few unfamiliar shops, assuming they were fly by night operations that closed up shop the moment the local five-oh strolled in. Lack of permits was a common issue. Permits cost a small fortune, from what he’d heard from the owner of the little cafe/diner he fancied, and many often set up temporary booths and kiosks that could be take down in minutes before the police were any the wiser.

Lighting himself a cigarette, he scanned around. The kiosk tucked away near the trees certainly was catching his eye. It wasn’t anything spectacular, promoting various wares more at home at a local thrift shop. A few patrons were poking around and checking out some of the items the little kiosk offered. But it wasn’t the things it was selling that had his attention. It was the two people chatting with patrons. Red curls now up in a high and sloppy bun atop her head, wearing a bikini covered with a sarong around her waist, smiling broadly at her new sucker, the tall blond haired hippy dude at her side. Murdoc lifted the shades carefully, wanting to make sure he was actually seeing who he thought he was seeing. Little fuzzy in the distance and he made a mental note to grab his prescription sunglasses next time, but it was no doubt the woman who’d robbed him and the hippy who’d invited him over to their bonfire party.

Hmm, this was definitely a change in circumstances. Though he had little doubt the five hundred cash was gone, there was still some hope they still had his cell phone. Not like they would have been able to sell it seeing once you powered it up, it was locked tight and required a fingerprint. Granted, what did he know of thieves nowadays? It was all about the tech. It was possible they knew how to bypass all that rubbish and wipe the phone clean. Christ, what if they managed to get into it and found his banking apps? Okay, don’t get fired up. There were safeguards in place and the accountant had been made aware of the theft. He found himself a chair at a smoothie booth and watched the ramshackle kiosk as they conversed with patrons and chatted to each other.

The woman broke away and started to walk towards the more congested street behind them. Figuring this was his one chance, he started to briskly trot through the crowd and across the street, narrowly missing being struck by a jeep full of unruly kids now barking at him. Ignoring the insults and swears hurled at him, he kept his eyes on the woman as she casually walked over to a little vegan joint. He was now only several feet behind her as she stood in line. He could feel his agitation rising as he thought about how he’d awoken in that empty hotel room, starkers and realizing she’d taken everything of value he’d had on him. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, reigning in the rising anger so he could focus. He moved closer, now right at her back as she ordered some ghastly vegan bacon burger. “Fancy meeting you here, thief,” he snarled into her ear. “Don’t suppose you still have my phone and sandals?”

She uttered a squeak of surprise, whirling around to face him. Upon seeing his face, she smirked and turned back around to finish her order before finally saying in a low voice. “Wasn’t my fault you were high as a kite and looking for someone to drain your nuts.” She turned back around, her full mouth quirking into a sly smile. “Be thankful I didn’t take your entire wallet, old man. Fake ID’s are not easy to come by, are they _Alphonse_?”

He blinked, unsure of what to make of the remark. Okay, so she recognized the driver’s license was fake, but that didn’t change the fact that his cash, sandals and cell phone had been quite real. He didn’t give a shit about the stolen blow. He could always get some more if the mood suited him, he just mainly wanted back his cell phone. “Look, I just want my phone back. It had a lot of important contacts and apps I need.”

“Good luck with that,” she tossed over her shoulder as she got her food order and started to walk away. “Greg already managed to jail break it and last I heard, he had a seller.”

Growling under his breath, he snatched her arm and dragged her out of the little restaurant and around the corner into an alley. He wasn’t going to fuck around with this bitch any further. She seemed mostly amused at his anger and this just made him angrier. “I don’t take kindly to thieves, chickie!” he snapped, wagging a finger at her face. “Now you can pony up the phone or I can get the police involved. What’s your pick?”

A scoffing laugh erupted from her. “Like hell you will,” she said through a massive bite of her sandwich. “I’m sure they’ll want to know why you’re using a fake identity. That driver’s license isn’t as authentic looking as you think. Just face the fact that you got ripped off. The blow’s gone, the sandals were sold this morning and the cell phone is being wiped as we fucking speak to go to our seller...”

“And my cash?” he demanded hotly.

“Already gone,” she whispered playfully, tapping at his lower lip with her finger. “Why do tourists always carry so much cash on hand? You guys make perfect targets.” Her smile melted briefly when he clamped down onto her arms and pressed her back to the wall, making it near impossible for her to escape. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do at this point. He absolutely wanted the cell phone back if there was a chance they still had it. Even if they’d wiped it as she claimed. He could still get most of it back through a recovery process. She smelled of coconuts and weed and suddenly all he could see was her straddled over him and riding him into bliss. Fuck, stop it, focus, you old tosser! She stole from you and all you can think about is how great the fuck had been? She must have caught the fleeting pause because she was now smiling at him, one of her hands now massaging the front of his shorts. “Listen, _tourist_ , go back to your hotel room, call the little woman you left on the mainland and just tell her you lost the phone surfing or something.”

“I live here too, you manky tart,” he grumbled, pulling his hips away from her touch before the bloodflow could speed southbound. “If you gimme back the phone, I won’t make a scene. I doubt the people shopping in your little hut will appreciate finding out you’re selling stolen goods, eh?” He raised an eyebrow for emphasis, watching the smile on her face melt away completely as she pondered over his proposition.

Her shoulders slumped slumped in defeat as she finally nodded her head. “Fine, you win.”

He kept his hand locked on her arm as they crossed the street back towards the beach. He wasn’t about to let her out of his sight at this point and no doubt ol’ Greg over at the hut was about to shit himself seeing their little party crasher waltz into their hut of stolen wares. He slid a side glance at the woman, mostly amazed that something this pretty was little more than a petty thief. Part of him wondered if she was used as bait. It wasn’t such an uncommon thing with groups like this right? Keep the pretty ones around to lure in unsuspecting arseholes and then rob them blind. While this was a plausible explanation, he couldn’t help but think there was more to it. He’d seen other girls with their group that had fit this description more so than this woman. She was too in control of the situation to be mere bait. “So, never got your name,” he muttered from the corner of his mouth.

She paused once they reached the sand, looking around. “Fucked our brains out two nights ago and _now_ you wanna know my name?”

“You left in a wee bit of a hurry so humor me.”

“If you must know, it’s Naya.”

“Right then, now that we got that out of the way...how did you end up doing this?” He reasoned it was a legitimate question. Though she was dressed like every other hippy and transient he spotted around this peculiar little town, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was out of her element or merely putting on an act. This was something he probably understood more than she realized. Hadn’t he essentially done the same thing? When she didn’t respond to his question, he released her arm and stuffed his hands into his short pockets. “Don't tell me the question is too personal! Especially after the night we had!”

“Not personal at all.” She continued forward, looking over her shoulder to see if he was still behind her. “Just woke up one day and decided I needed a change. Seven years later, here I am...”

“Partying on the beach and robbing tourists is a hell of a change,” he chuckled, lighting himself a fresh cigarette. “But hey, whatever floats your boat, right?”

Reaching their little hut, Greg perked up immediately upon seeing Murdoc, now fretfully looking at Naya with wide eyes. She ignored Greg’s panicky stares as she circled around to where their ancient cash register was, fumbling around underneath it and pulling out a decent sized wooden crate. Murdoc leaned in, almost laughing when he realized there were over a dozen cell phones in there. Naya picked through the crate of phones, finally pulling up a couple of iPhones. “Which one was it?”

Murdoc grabbed at one of them and powered it up. When the lock screen revealed itself to be a One Direction wallpaper, he scowled and tossed it into the box. So they even stole from kids, eh? Grabbing the second phone, he turned that one on and waited patiently with the cigarette clamped in his lip as the lock screen came up and revealed a partially naked Lady Ga Ga. Nodding his thanks, he tucked the phone into his pocket. “Right then, I’ll be on my way. It was a pleasure doing business with you both.” Naya said nothing as she grabbed the crate and shoved it back beneath the register. Greg was still staring at them both in stupefied silence. Murdoc gave him a curt nod as he casually strolled out of the little hut and back across the sand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Swirling the ice around in his drink, Murdoc sucked off the straw and leaned back in the chair with his eyes on the television that was bolted up in the far corner of the little bar and grill. Though he could have easily just stuck around the condo and mucked about with the Cyborg or even Hunter, he was distracted and needed to get out for the evening. At least he got his phone back and thank Satan they hadn’t wiped it clean as Naya had claimed. Part of him chided himself for not making a scene and scaring off their oblivious customers but he’d just wanted his phone back. Christ, he must really be slowing down if he didn’t take the chance to get back at someone for crossing him. He frowned, sucking more Malibu through the straw. It wasn’t that simple. Naya was fascinating but he had to keep reminding himself that she’d robbed him and while he’d gotten back his phone, she still had managed to get away with the five hundred cash and his blow, which was probably another hundred dollars right there. She just seemed so fucking out of place with that band of vagabonds she’d been with.

Whatever, keep her face in the backlogs for the spank bank and call it a day. He’d managed to get laid in spite it all so there was a silver lining right there. A very necessary lay because he’d been long over-fucking-due. Time to move on to new pastures, whatever they might be.

He’d originally left Cyborg with the task of seeing if it could track down the other band members. Make no effort to contact them, just get the feelers out and see if they had possibly survived. To his surprise and even immense joy – though he’d never admit this – it had found Dents. Apparently the lanky bastard had been living it up in Guadalupe and partying his arse off. Murdoc could have sworn he’d seen that demented demon whale eat the lad whole, but he was clearly mistaken. This brought some minor relief to Murdoc because as much as Stu irritated him, he never had a death wish for the lad. Finding out he was on some beach in Mexico eased some of Murdoc’s heavy conscience, but there was still the matter of Noodle and Russel. The Cyborg, with all the upgrades and advancements, couldn’t seem to locate them at all. But there was no indication that they’d died. Surely Russel’s family would have had a service of some kind if the big man had passed. So this gave Murdoc slivers of hope.

Would he ever reach out to them if he found them all again? He didn’t know. He just knew he’d left them to die and there was a good chance they wouldn’t want anything to do with him. Couldn’t blame them, now could he? If he’d been in their place, he couldn’t say he’d be very keen on reuniting any time soon. Shoving the heavier thoughts away, he returned his focus back to the drink in his hand. Malibu with some pineapple, in a cheap and garish little plastic coconut cup and a little umbrella. He drained what remained of the drink and set the empty cup onto the table, fingers tapping impatiently on the table top. He was antsy and not sure why. Was it because the Cyborg had found 2D? Was it the Naya woman? Christ, why did he keep coming back around to that girl? She was a petty thief and it had been a stroke of luck on his part that he’d spotted her again and was able to get his cell phone back. Be glad they hadn’t been able to get through the lock screen because that would have no doubt given away his true identity. She was already well aware he was living under an assumed identity.

Would it be a bad thing if she found out who he really was?

He chuckled to himself as he kicked his feet up onto the table. Rather hard to be in hiding when you’re telling people who you really are. Though Boogie had collected the soul, there was still a chance it would be sent back again to try to collect on what was owed. Maybe he would be one of the lucky ones and old Nick wouldn’t give a shit or maybe, better yet, he would be impressed with Murdoc’s conjuring abilities and call the matter settled. Bit of a pipe dream, but pipe dreams were all Murdoc had. He wasn’t too sure how to handle the pirates but it had taken them five years to find him last time and that had been while he’d been still living it out in the open. Good luck finding him now.

Humming a Rolling Stones tune, he got to his feet and started to stroll back towards the little condo he called home. It was late and he could crash out. He’d been up since four-ish in the morning and it was already pushing eleven at night. He was knackered and ready to call it a fucking night. He’d had a rather eventful day. Tomorrow the accountant would sling some cash in his direction and his incognito existence could continue a bit longer. He half hummed and half sang, dancing a bit as he went along, feeling a bit more himself. Also had to remind himself that he’d gotten a blowie and had gotten laid just a few short nights ago too and this could easily be why he was in better spirits. He’d take what he could get. Matter of fact, he wasn’t too ashamed to decide in those moments that he’d drag out that pricey sex toy and bang the shit out of it once he got settled back at the condo.

He could see his condo in the distance and quickened his steps. Keys already in hand, he paused at the door and looked at something tucked between the door and the doorjamb. It looked like a business card. “Well, hello, what’s this?” He plucked the paper from the door, his heart plummeting as he read over the little card. Wait...no. Not possible. “Entertainment Internal Affairs?” Great. Just fucking great. The back of the card has a name and a number to call. Scowling, he chucked it aside and went inside, slamming the door behind him. So EMI had found him also? He’d actually forgotten all about them in the chaos. Had he still owed them something? He couldn’t remember anymore. He took a breath and scrubbed his hands across his face, groaning loudly. Another entity out for a piece of him. Should he even be surprised? Everyone wanted a piece of the Niccals. Get in line and wait for you number to be called! Fucking hell, he didn’t need anymore worries on his plate. Time to lose himself in some adult films and a few sex toys. Ignoring the Cyborg standing there with his glass of rum and Hunter yowling at him, he veered directly for the bedroom.


	4. King of the Dump

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: DRUG USE & EXPLICIT SEX

The person who had left the business card had come back several times over the course of the following days. Murdoc remained tucked away with the door bolted and locked tight. How in the world had anyone found him? The condo was under the assumed name. He’d cut his hair and allowed himself to go fully grey. He avoided drawing much attention to himself. That alone had been quite difficult because he wanted to scream from the rooftops who he was and be treated like the king he’d once been. It drove him fucking mental having to keep such a low profile and only then realizing that it had been his fame and notoriety that had attracted the legions of willing groupies who had all wanted their five minutes of his time or fifteen on his cock. The fame had really gone to his head, hadn’t it? Now he was just a regular dude and nobody gave a shit about a regular dude. He was now a dime a dozen on this blasted island.

Of course, now realizing that someone had managed to track him down had him questioning his every move since setting up residence in Hilo. Had he done something to alert all the interested parties of his whereabouts? He hadn’t really been trying to avoid EMI because he had no idea he owed them something too. Hell, get in line. He owed everyone. The record label wasn’t anything special at this point. This made him chuckle bitterly to himself. He couldn’t hide in the condo forever. At some point he would have to go out and get groceries. He also despised being cooped up inside against his will. He could always call the record label and see what they wanted, but he also didn’t want them to know they’d gotten the right place either. Did they have someone following him? Was that how they figured it out? Maybe they reached out to the accountant he’d hired. Could always reach out and ask.

Maybe he could throw them off his scent by putting together another radio show? The last one he’d done was over six months ago in promotion of a Greatest Hits album (which, as far as he was concerned, meant you were done). He had announced to the world that he was in Hawaii, but with the help of Hewlett and Albarn during that Converse promo music video, it had been made to look as if the Hawaii claims were false and he was in fact hiding out in some basement back in the UK. Since everyone had gone missing, they had to use CGI mock ups of the band. Albarn himself had to finish the song because they all had vanished before its completion.

He’d still been a bit of a mess at the time of the radio show also. Right before he dropped off the radar, his agent had emailed him a lengthy blast about his behavior on the show. He’d been stoned most of the time, lacing his drinks with Rohypnol and even snorted a line right off one of the records he’d been playing. Couldn’t deny that he’d had a grand fucking time. He enjoyed the radio shows because the fans loved it and he could ramble on about whatever the fuck he wanted and the fans had eaten that shit right up. Perhaps he should take up a radio talk show? Offer up advice to the masses? Could probably make a killing doing that. Dating advice, life advice, career advice. People loved having others tell them what they needed to do and he was just the person to tell them. Do a line, maybe toss a few drinks down the hatch and just let it rip onto the radio waves. He’d become a sure-fire hit.

Chuckling to himself, he sauntered to the spare bedroom and dropped into his little wheeled office chair. On one side of the room was the radio equipment and the other side had a small desk set up with his laptop. He needed to go through his messages and see if the record label had attempted to contact him in other ways before leaving a calling card in his door. He got himself a bit more comfortable and opened up the laptop. A cursory check of his main email inbox showed just a few messages from his accountant, a random _Where the Hell Are You_ from his agent, a few mixed personal emails he needed to get sorted out and at the bottom, emailed probably a few months back, were emails from EMI. The EMI emails were short but very much to the point. He was in breach of contract over the whole Plastic Beach fiasco. Might need to forward these emails to a solicitor because it was a lot of legal jargon he didn’t quite understand. For all he knew, they were taking him for a ride.

One of the messages from the accountant was asking about whether or not he was planning to wire some money stateside. He’d almost forgotten about that. He’d been doing it without much thought for the past year or so. He responded quickly, the message short and sweet. _Same amount as last time. Let her know I still expect our agreement to stand._ It had been a peculiar situation. Bird he’d met stateside in the final leg of the Plastic Beach tour. They’d fucked a few nights and then he’d left. He hadn’t expected to hear from her ever again, but out of the blue came an email indicating he’d left her a little souvenir of their time together. She hadn’t expected anything, simply feeling there was a moral obligation to inform him of what had come of their four day fuck fest. He’d sat on the email for nearly a week before responding, asking that she not reveal him by name if anyone asked and he would make sure the souvenir would be taken care of. He had no idea the gender or what it even looked like. It would be just under a year old at this point, right? Hell, for all he knew the woman was taking him for a ride. Maybe not because she didn’t email him demanding anything and he’d encountered enough women who had done that shit to know whether he should be wary of the claims. So the woman and her little souvenir had simply become another bill he paid. He was probably paying more than what some court might order him to pay, but the money was just as much for her silence as it was for the care of the little crotch goblin. He’d also mentally kicked himself for not using a fucking condom because he was getting too fucking old to keep siring kids around the fucking planet.

With those few obligations sorted, he browsed through the internet a bit to bide some time. He’d found some enjoyment of Twitter and used an alternate profile for personal browsing to avoid any fans hitting him up. He didn’t mind the fans, but rather hard for him to navigate his main and tackle the thousands of notifications or the newer breed of fans coming in whose idea of funny and showing love was shitting on you every chance they had. There were also the ones who were convinced he and Dents were a couple or him and Noodle. Look, he didn’t mind swinging both ways, but neither Dents or Noodle had ever been on his radar. He missed the days of old when fans simply wanted to touch you and bone you and didn’t have these over the top fantasies about all of them fucking each other. Whatever the hell had given them these ideas baffled him to no end, but he wasn’t about to dig around to find out. Nothing said or done could change their minds so all he could do was browse using his alternate account, comment on something here or there, maybe post some random deep tweet and call it a day.

Facebook was a bit more his ballgame, but even that had seen an influx of the same weird new fans whose favorite past time had become insulting the celebrities they claimed to love. The internet was becoming a strange new world, no doubt about it. If a person wasn’t trolling, it was all about making sure whatever you said hit all the right marks and offended no one. Part of his fan appeal had been the fact he was unapologetically an arsehole and he’d lost count of how often his agent had a coronary over something he’d said in an interview or on their website. Getting nicked by the police for possession hadn’t helped either.

Deciding finally to call it a day, he lit himself a cigarette and sauntered out of the room, closing the door behind him. Hunter spotted him from the kitchen and immediately ran up to him in an effort to get his attention due to his oh so neglected food dish. Murdoc grunted a response as the cat slid and curled around his ankles. It was another humid fucking day and he had the air conditioning set to maybe sixty. He was wandering the condo in nothing but a pair of briefs, which had become his main wardrobe staple when he decided to remain indoors. He had an assortment of different styles and colors, sometimes able to amuse himself for the better part of a day with some of the designs he purchased for shits and giggles. The current pair were blue and purple galaxy with flying cats. He’d cackled heartily when they had come in the post. Fluffy persian kitties sprawled through the air with their mouths open soaring through a galaxy that shifted and rippled with his movements. One of the kitties was aligned perfectly with how his cock rested against him and this had made him laugh even harder.

Blinds were drawn at every window and even the sliding glass back door. If that EMI tosser came back, he’d just sit on his sofa, smoke a joint and watch the telly. Let the poor sod continue to try. They would have to give up eventually. He paused at the kitchen and fixed himself a drink before casually walking over to the sofa and dropping into it. A simple rum and coke on ice was perfect for a humid day like this, especially when he was tucked away in a nice and comfortable condo with an industrial sized air conditioning unit.

“Sir?” The Cyborg was standing at the far end of the sofa looking at him. “The individual from EMI is approaching the premises again.”

“And I care why?” he drawled, peering up at it. “Not like I’m gonna answer the bloody door and invite them in. Let them knock. They’ll go away eventually.”

“They have become quite persistent, sir.” It cocked its head, the glass eyes shifting. He could hear the gears grinding around inside of it and felt a chill rippled down his spine. It turned stiffly towards the door just as a loud knock reverberated through the condo.

“Don’t answer it and don’t say a word,” Murdoc warned in a low voice. “Like I said, let them knock. I’m trying to have a fucking holiday so they can all fuck off for all I care.” He returned his attention to the television as the person knocked and knocked for what felt like forever. Christ, do they not ever give up? Just assume you got the wrong place and move the fuck on. He’d made damned sure the condo, the utilities and everything else was under the assumed name. And Alphonse wasn’t that odd of a name so it was a bit presumptuous to assume it was him if they were going off the name alone. Granted, how many Alphonses were out there that were British? He assumed not many. But still, they needed to accept that they had another dead end and just move on. When and if he decided to resurface again, they could go after him then.

He continued to nurse his drink and smoke his cigarette as the person knocked a few more times before blessed silence filled the air. He cracked a toothy and triumphant smile up at the Cyborg before resuming his smoke and booze. He’d found himself something on the History Channel regarding aliens and mummies. Okay, not quite his bag but probably better than half the rubbish that was on the telly anyway. He’d rather watch a dude with wild hair go on about aliens than that Gypsy Wedding show. Or that Toddler Tiara bullshit. Christ, who the hell thought it was perfectly okay to dress up tots in clothing that would make a stripper blush? That shit must have been a pedo’s dream come true. American television was balls. There were a few programs he enjoyed, but every network was over-saturated with that ridiculous reality telly rubbish. One channel had an interesting zombie horror drama that had snagged his attention as well as a show about a dying dude selling dope. He’d also gotten himself addicted to some Fox crime drama about a hot forensic bird partnered up with that bloke from the old Buffy show. He only knew who the bloke was because Noodle had loved Buffy and he, Dents and Russ had been forced to watch it with her when they all still had lived at Kong. Hard to admit he actually missed those days.

Part of him entertained the idea of having the Cyborg reach out to Dents and see if he was willing to chat. Was he really that desperate for company? He’d been doing alright so far but his days ran together and he would lose entire weeks without ever doing a damned thing. There were only so many places one could visit in this little tourist and retirement trap and he’d explored them all within his first six months here. Could always hit up that strip club. His face settled into a deep frown as he drained what remained of his drink. Places like that were more fun when you were flying high and a recent inquiry with his hook up had come up empty. Man was out until next week. Figures. Could just smoke a bowl and go wander the beach again. Christ, how dull. He was fucking bored. He wanted to be able to enjoy the life he’d once been accustomed to and he couldn’t. He hated feeling restrained and smothered like this. He should be out partying it up, not hanging out in a filthy condo in nothing but a pair of galaxy kitty skivvies.

Christ, the condo really was starting to go to hell. It was in a dire need of cleaning. He looked around at the stack of take away containers and other rubbish littering the table in front of him. A few articles of dirty clothing were on the floor and the kitchen had started to look like something out of a nightmare, especially with the rising stack of small plates he’d been serving the cat food on. Hadn’t he programmed the Cyborg to actually clean or had he imagined that? He couldn’t even remember anymore. It was still just standing there, looking at him with that same stupid blank expression on its face. “Err...place is looking a bit ragged, love. Maybe you should, ya know, tidy up?” Nodding curtly, the Cyborg turned and made a brisk walk towards the kitchen. Not long after, the sounds of the tap and the clink of dishes filled the space and Murdoc returned his somewhat bored attention to the telly and the dude with the wild hair going on about aliens.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A knocking at the door echoed in the darkness of his consciousness. He was drifting and peaceful, dreaming of sitting on a floatie out in the surf with a drink in one hand and smoke in the other. The sun was bright overhead and the sky was a brilliant blue. But there was that accursed knocking. _Thwap! Thwap! Thwap!_ The blue skies and sunshine shimmered and rippled and slowly the lounge of the condo came into view as Murdoc slowly opened his eyes. It was dark outside but all the lights were on and someone was pounding on the fucking door like they were the bloody police. He uttered a groan, trying to stretch and feeling muscles and joints scream in protest. He’d nodded off on the sofa, apparently with his chin resting against his chest because there was a fine trail of drool that had pooled in his navel. His bladder was insanely full too. Every part of him protested against his stretches and yawns as he slowly struggled to get to his feet.

_Thwap! Thwap! Thwap!_

“Christ, gimme a minute!” he barked, his irritation rising. A glance at his cell indicated it was nearing ten at night. No way it was that pathetic sod from EMI. Not at this hour. Ooh, maybe it was his connection with a surprise supply of some good whizz? That would be stellar. He wiped at his mouth and navel, walking stiffly towards the door. Reefing it open, he was momentarily taken aback at the fact that it wasn’t his coke connection standing there, but Naya. He blinked, wanting to make sure this was in fact Naya standing there. “Err...hello there. Fancy meeting you on my doorstep.”

She gave him a casual once over, the ghost of a smile on her face. He dropped his gaze down, remembering he was in nothing but a pair of briefs. Fluffy. Kitty. Galaxy. Briefs. A small peal of laughter escaped from her. “Nice chonies, man.”

Murdoc stepped back and watched her warily as she stepped into the condo. A million alarms were going off in his head and he wasn’t sure what to say or what to do. How had she found his place of residence? He could feel himself blushing and struggled to keep it from becoming too obvious. Perhaps if he’d had any other pair of briefs on other than the galaxy cats. Christ, why was he even second guessing himself here? She’d crashed his doorstep. This was his house and she hadn’t been invited. He’d performed on stages to crowds of thousands in much less. If anything, she should be impressed that he was secure enough in his masculinity to even wear these things. He continued to watch her as she lingered in the foyer briefly before walking straight to his sofa and plopping down into the cushions. He fretfully looked around and realized the place was only half tidied and there was no sign of the Cyborg. The take away cartons were still littered across the coffee table and the laminate flooring was still covered in crumbs and cat hair. “So...should I ask how you found me place?” he asked finally as he hunted around the home. “I don’t recall ever giving you my address.” Opening up the second bedroom, he uttered a sigh of relief to find the Cyborg charging in the corner. He rushed into the room and pulled back the wig to the control panel on the back of its head. A quick flick of a switch and it would remain powered down until he flipped it back on.

“Your fake ID,” Naya called from the lounge.

Slipping into the extra bathroom in the hall, he uttered a low groan as he emptied his bladder. “Fair enough,” he huffed, giving himself a few shakes before tucking himself back into the briefs, “but how did you know the address would be real?” He emerged from the narrow hall and began to collect the food cartons. “For all you knew, the address was fake as well.”

Naya smirked at him, watching as he carried the stack of cartons to the bin. “Fake ID or not, if you want it to appear legit, you’re gonna have some correct information on it.” She shrugged as she got to her feet and looked around the lounge, lingering over by his stereo equipment. He watched her carefully, opening his mouth to protest against touching his stacks of vinyls but the words dying away when she spoke up. “Oh wow, you have _Sticky Fingers_? That’s my favorite Stones album!”

This woman ripped you off days ago, he reminded himself. Sure, she’s pretty and all but having her here in your home? Do you _want_ to wake up tomorrow and find out that she had her merry band of vagabonds clean you out? Those vinyls had taken him months to collect, most of them replacing ones he’d lost when the pirates had attacked the Plastic Beach. Would she nick those too? He wasn’t sure what to do and this alarmed him. He couldn’t take his eyes off her arse or the long and muscular legs. She was wearing a flowing tank with a pair of loose cotton capri pants, her rump flexing and moving as she continued to go through his collection of vinyls. Her skin shimmered and he wondered if she had some kind of spray or body glitter on. Being able to examine her a bit more brought to his attention little things he hadn’t noticed when they’d first met or during the second encounter. Her hair was loose and it rested halfway down her back. At a glance, it looked a deep copper red but he could now see splashes of brown and the light picking up on what he assumed were reddish blond highlights. A few small tattoos on her arms and what appeared to be one on her back between her shoulders, though it was hard to tell with how the hair moved.

Naya paused, turning around to meet his stare. “So...you’re not gonna put clothes on? Just gonna stand there in your drawers, man?”

“You’re the one who showed up at my home uninvited at ten at night,” he shot back, feigning irritation. “If you don’t like how I look, the door is right over there.” He pulled a couple of beers from the fridge and returned to the lounge, passing her one of the bottles. “So, isn’t that hippy bloke you’re running with gonna wonder where you ran off to? Won’t he be a wee bit upset you’re here with a man?”

Naya erupted into a snorting laugh, shaking her head. “Greg isn’t my keeper. He’s just a friend, man, nothing more. Been there for me since I showed up on the islands.”

“And the others you were with at the bonfire the other night?” He turned his focus to the vinyls, wanting to appear distracted as he waited for a response. “You with any of them?”

Naya shook her head as she took a drink from the bottle of beer. “No. Just some randos who joined us that night, the same as you.” She set the beer aside, looking over his arm as he continued to go through the records. “How about you, man? You don’t exactly look like you belong here either.”

“I’m asking the questions here,” he muttered, pulling a record from its sheath. “Since you decided to crash my evening, reckon it’s only fair, eh?”

“How about I answer one and you answer one?” she suggested, pulling a bag of weed from her little shoulder satchel that he hadn’t even noticed until that moment. “We can light one up and do the whole twenty questions thing that way. Might be a bit more entertaining.”

“Might,” he snorted as he placed the vinyl on the turn table and flicked the power on. Setting the needle down gently, there was some faint scratching from the speakers before the lounge was filled with the riffs of guitars followed by drums of AC/DC’s Highway to Hell. She raised an eyebrow at the selection, but didn’t protest the choice. He took another drink from his beer and sat down on the sofa. “Okay, so I’m gonna start. First thing’s first: where the bloody hell did you come from? You stand out like a sore thumb with that Greg bloke, doll.”

Naya planted herself beside him, insanely close given the additional four feet available on the sofa. She took a few more drinks from the beer before sinking back into the sofa with a smile. “Came from Colorado – Denver, to be exact. Met Greg when I first arrived on the islands.”

Not quite the answer he was hoping for, but reasoned it was a start. “Did you lot get right into robbing tourists or did some pyramid scheme fall through?”

She shook her head, still smiling. “That’s not what we agreed on. I answered your questions and now it’s your turn. Where are you from?”

His eyebrows soared skyward as he erupted into a cackling laugh. “Seriously? My accent kinda gives it away, doesn’t it?”

“Obviously you’re English,” she said in a matter of fact tone. “Where abouts from England? London? Manchester? Care to narrow it down?”

“Stoke On Trent.” His paused briefly, tipping the bottle back for another drink. “But moved to Essex when I was a young man.” Though part of him still felt a bit on guard having the woman in his home, he also felt a bit relaxed. Could’ve been the beer, though. Drinking on an empty stomach tended to do that. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hunter peeking around the corner at the stranger, his gold eyes flickering to his master with what Murdoc could only assume was confusion. Lighting himself a cigarette, he eased himself into the cushions and sighed. “My turn once again. What made you decide you needed a change and what were you doing before you decided to abandon it all and become Oliver Twist?”

Her smile faltered at the corners. “You really get straight to the point.”

“I try not to beat around the bush too much. Waste of time.”

“Okay, I lived in Denver,” she began, “and I even had a husband and a quaint little house. Worked for a legal firm as a paralegal. Some personal things happened and I decided to leave the husband and house and start fresh, but the husband drained the bank accounts by the time I got to the islands.”

“You were married?” he asked, not bothering to hide his surprise. He wasn’t sure why this surprised him because just about everyone he’d known – with the exception of his old band mates – had all been married and divorced at some point. And if he was judging her age, he’d guess at least mid-thirties, which meant it was very likely she’d been married at some point. He had to remind himself that he and his former band mates had been the anomalies with none of them ever marrying even once.

“Yup, I was.” She shifted on the sofa so she was turned towards him with a leg curled beneath her. “But it’s my turn now. How about you? Running from a bad divorce and trying to hide assets? I know your driver’s license is fake which means the name on it is probably fake also.”

Murdoc’s mouth pressed into a thin line as his mind scrambled to come up with something that sounded believable enough. He was still trying to come to terms with the fact that this woman was in his home. He had to keep reminding himself that she’d robbed him. What if all of this now was just a ploy to shag him again until he passed out and then rob him blind of everything he owned, plus the fucking cat? He finished his beer and set the empty bottle onto the table, chewing at his lower lip while he considered his response. Could just agree with her and say he was hiding out from a vengeful future ex wife. “Err...not married or anything,” he said finally. “Like you, I decided I needed a change and figured it was best to go incognito.”

Naya nodded, flashing another brilliant smile as she loaded some green into a little glass pipe. “See, I get that. Life’s too short to conform to drone status. Life is for living.” She took a quick hit from the pipe before passing it towards him. “Hope you like Sativa.”

“Weed is weed to me,” he muttered as he flicked the lighter over the bowl and took a small hit from the pipe. He wasn’t any kind of weed connoisseur. It was something used to level himself out when he got himself too wired up on blow and had been up for days. He found himself using it a bit more often as of late only because he was discovering that recovery time after even being up more than a day took a lot out of him. He handed her back the pipe and watched as she took another hit from it. He was fascinated with her curls. He could even remember how they’d felt through his fingers. Soft, almost like silk. Christ, was he that lonely? Willing to sit here and smoke pot with this strange woman who had no qualms about robbing him just a few short days ago? Lost the plot, Doc, he scolded silently to himself. “You’re not trying to get me wasted so I pass out and you can rob me again, are you?”

She perked her head up, eyes wide and mouth quirking at the corners. “Now, Alphonse, I’m offended!” she exclaimed, laughing loudly and falling backwards. “No plans to rob you again, man, no worries.” Pushing herself upright, she passed him the pipe. “Truthfully? I find you interesting. You’re a weird looking fucker, Al, but you’re interesting and I like interesting.”

“It’s the accent,” he cackled as he took another hit of the weed. Rising up from the sofa, he ventured back towards the kitchen to grab a few fresh beers. “Yankee birds love the accent!”

Strolling back towards the lounge with the two bottles, he spotted Hunter finally coming out to examine the newcomer. It occurred to Murdoc that he’d never had a guest at the condo before. Naya spotted the cat right away, giggling as she reached towards the hesitant little bugger. “You have a cat! Now _this_ is what I mean by interesting, man. You _do not_ come across as a cat person!” Hunter gave her a few hesitant sniffs before finally butting his head into her hand and allowing some pets. She was almost squealing with delight over this, running her fingers over his fur. “What’s their name?”

“Bubs...err, I mean Hunter,” he said, passing her a fresh beer and dropping back into his spot on the sofa. “Went to the shelter one evening and left with that little bugger. And you’re right, I’m not really a cat person, but he grew on me.”

Naya looked over at him with a broad smile. “Far out, you even gave him a nickname! I fucking love it!” Sitting upright, she got herself a bit more comfortable before uncapping the new beer. “Right...twenty questions still...your eye. It’s a weird color and you can barely see the pupil. What happened to it?”

“So we’re getting into more personal questions now?” he asked with a smirk.

“It’s my turn to ask and you didn’t say anything was off limits.” Okay, fair point. Neither had established any boundaries as far as what kind of questions could be asked. She leaned in towards him, close enough to feel her body heat as she peered into the clouded salmon colored eye. “Are you blind in that eye?”

“I am...well, legally blind, anyway.” The scent of coconuts filled his nostrils and he could hear his heartbeat slamming in his chest as she examined the eye. So close. Her face was inches from his own and he swallowed dryly, praying silently that the centered flying fluffy kitty on his briefs didn’t suddenly spring up to attention. Coughing nervously, he drew back. “You’re a very forward person.”

She made no effort to move, merely smiling at him. “That I am...so, how did the eye thing happen? Work accident?”

“Accident when I was a kid,” he said in a low voice, unable to tear his gaze away from hers. “My Dad...he, well...got mad at me about something – don’t remember what it was now – and pinned me against the counters trying to gouge my eyes out. I can see movement and shadows out of it, but that’s about it.”

The brilliant smile melted from her face. “Oh shit, man, I’m sorry...”

Christ, she was still so fucking close! He could see the freckles across her nose and cheeks and the flecks of green in her hazel eyes. His hand moved before his brain could stop it, reaching up and sliding carefully across her cheek. She didn’t move or pull away from his touch and this encouraged him further, allowing the hand to slowly glide into her hair. What should he do at this point? Kiss her? Part of him wanted to but another part of him pointed out that he was terrible at this gentle shit. He usually just grabbed their heads and forced them to his cock or turned them around to get inside of them. Hell, there had even been those times after a show when he had two or three of them accompanying him backstage or back at the hotel and he’d force them to make out and go down on each other while he stroked himself off and watched. Sex had always been about getting it and getting himself off. He hadn’t cared about whether or not the woman enjoyed it because as long as he enjoyed it, that had been all that mattered. Hell, even when Naya had first accosted him that night, it had been about getting off. When was the last time he’d been focused on making sure a woman had enjoyed it as much as him? He couldn’t even remember anymore. It had probably been close to thirty years!

It took him a long moment before he realized she’d let the loose tank slip away, revealing a lack of bra and a pair of gorgeous tits. Had he seen her tits last time? He couldn’t remember. They were decently sized. At least a good solid D cup. His other hand reached out, massaging one of them carefully and rolling the dark nipple between his thumb and index finger. Smiling, he leaned towards the other one, taking the nipple into his mouth and rolling it with his tongue. When a moan broke from her, he slid his tongue across her breast, up her neck, finally pressing his mouth against hers, his tongue forcing its way through. Both hands were now on her breasts, fingers tweaking the nipples gently as he motioned her backward into the sofa cushions. With every roll and pinch of his fingers, she let out short huffing moans and this encouraged him further, grinding his erection against her still-clothed lower half. Her eyes were glazed, half mast as they peered up at him, her lips parted slightly. She was trying to speak, groaning as he continued to grind against her. “Can we do this in your bed?” she breathed, another moan breaking free.

Drawing back slowly, he unbuttoned the carpi pants and nodded as he grabbed the waistband and pulled them away, revealing a carefully trimmed downy patch that was a shade darker than her hair. Fucking hell, he just wanted to dive right in. Aching and gagging for it. He lashed his tongue out, smiling when she yelped and bucked her hips. It was a bit awkward on the sofa but he’d gone down on women in some pretty strange situations. The bed did sound better. Could drag this out quite nicely once on the bed. He leaned down, driving his tongue into her briefly and feeling her jerk hard against his face as he explored. The cry that had come out of her was almost feral sounding and he continued using his tongue inside of her, sliding it out so he could put some focus on her most sensitive part. He kissed and nipped at her thighs as he slowly sat upright, finally grabbing her hand and pulling her from the sofa.

Leading her to the bedroom, it took a moment or so of shoving the cat out so he could close the door and secure it. The door didn’t quite close right and if you pushed it hard enough, it would pop right open. He rarely cared about voyeurs but he was not about to get down to business with that blasted cat jumping onto the bed and trying to get between them for some fucking attention. Hunter uttered a few yowls as Murdoc used his foot to shove the cat out to the hallway. _Not now, Daddy needs to get laid!_ Once the door was shut and secured, he turned towards the bed and uttered a noise in his chest when he saw Naya laying across the bed on her stomach, rolling to her side and gesturing for him to join her. Didn’t have to ask him twice! He climbed across the bed and pulled her towards him, mouth back on hers. She was tugging at his briefs, pushing them down his hips. “Why didn’t you show me that tongue the first time?” she breathed.

“Secret weapon,” he mumbled, running his hands across her skin. She was blazing hot beneath his palms and every whimper and moan made his cock twitch. He returned his focus to her breasts, flicking the nipples with his tongue before slowly working his way down. When he reached her sex, his tongue slowly creeping around before sliding in, a choked moan erupted from her, her hips bucking reflexively. Getting himself comfortable between her legs, he ran his tongue across before slowly sliding his tongue into her. Agonizingly slow, curling the tip of his tongue as he inched it into her further. She was almost frantic now, mewling and crying out as he worked her as slow as he could. He circled his arms around her thighs, holding her firm before driving his tongue into her deep. A strange shrill yelp erupted from her, her hips straining and fighting to be free of his grip. He uncurled one arm so he could toy with the little sensitive part while his tongue continued to explore inside her. She was almost frantic now, little more than strange guttural sounds coming from her. No words, no anything, just sound. Sweet fucking Satan, she even tasted like coconuts. He lapped at her folds, toying with her with the tip of his tongue. One of her hands had found his, nails biting into his skin as she clenched down, almost sobbing as he worked her higher and higher. Fuck yes, she was cumming and she was cumming hard. Every muscle was seizing up, clamping down around his tongue as she cried out with her back arching.

Pulling away, he dived towards the little bedside table and fumbled around with the pesky little necessity. Back between her legs, more playful licks as she moaned through another climax. Every fucking inch of him throbbed. He frantically climbed across her, driving himself into her body with as much force as he could muster, moaning against her throat as he thrust, riding out her orgasm. He could feel her hands on his back as she tried to find purchase, legs wrapping around his hips as he continued to pump and thrust. She was still fucking cumming. How the fuck was this possible? Flexing and clenching around him as he pounded himself into her as hard as he dared. Her mouth was at his ear, nipping and biting at it, her voice nothing but a throaty whisper. “Harder...” It was all the invitation he needed. Pushing himself up onto his arms so he could see her bounce and writhe beneath him as he continued, moans and whimpers of his own escaping as she continued to flex and clamp down.

Sweat danced in his eyes, his breath ragged as he kept going, every inch of him feeling the snug heat of her body. Fascinated with how her tits bounced so hard with the motions of his body. He could feel her body tensing again and when her back arched with another choked cry, he went harder and harder, muttering and cursing under his breath as she bucked through another climax. She was moving her body to meet his, the pressure pure bliss and he could feel that the end was near. Fuck, no, not right now! Every muscle ached, but all he wanted to do was to keep pumping into her. Wanted to keep watching as she rode through orgasm after orgasm, knowing that this was his doing. His grunts turned to moans, his body finally slowing down as he thrust a few more times before he hit the wall. He cried out without meaning to, everything fading into white noise as he rode through the delicious feelings of release.

Panting, he collapsed to the side, unable to move and barely able to feel a fucking thing. His hands tingled. His feet tingled. Hell, even his cock tingled. Through the haze of his vision, he could see Naya slowly turning so she could face him. A hand came out, wiping at his forehead and through his close cropped hair. Fucking hell, that had been amaze-balls. As the tingling sensations lifted, exhausted took its place and he struggled to keep his eyes open, watching as Naya curled closer to him, her mouth against his. Soft, gentle, her own labored breathing washing over him. He thought he spoke, but he couldn’t be too sure. Something about them going to sleep, maybe. His brain felt fried. She was caressing his cheek, his jaw. Sleep was threatening to take over and he allowed himself to drift. Her words barely reached his conscious thoughts, too exhausted to even be alarmed when he realized she’d said a name and _not_ the name he’d given her. “Sleep, Murdoc.”


	5. Crosshairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: DRUG USE, SEX, MORE SEX

Morning light sliced through the blinds and it took Murdoc a long moment to realize he was hearing music coming from the lounge and someone talking cheerily. His eyes snapped open as he looked around the bedroom. He was laying sprawled across his bed, still starkers, but he was definitely hearing someone out in the lounge or kitchen. Sitting up, he scrubbed at his face and looked around the room carefully. Last night came flooding back in waves and chuckling to himself, he climbed from the bed and hunted around for a pair of pajama pants. This shouldn’t be difficult because he only had a few pairs of them and rarely wore them. He was actually feeling a bit like his old self for once and it felt fucking good. He still had it! The memory of her moans and cries echoed in his head as he continued to look around the room, finally spotting a pair of plain black pajama pants almost swallowed up by the end of his mattress. He could still hear her in his head and this brought flickering memories of seeing her writhing and bouncing beneath him. Fuck, he was going to get hard again if he continued thinking about it. Not a bad thing, right?

Massaging himself a bit, he slipped from the bedroom and down the hall. He could see Hunter sitting in the kitchen looking up at someone. Upon catching sight of him, the cat ran up and curled around his legs. Apparently there were no hard feelings over being unceremoniously kicked out of the bedroom. “Morning, Bubs,” he muttered, spotting his cigarettes on the coffee table in the lounge. His Rolling Stones album was playing, the song _Sister Morphine_ rolling slowly from the speakers. He grabbed his cigarettes and lit himself one, turning to the kitchen and spotting Naya cooking something over the hob. Her hair was pulled into a sloppy ponytail and she had put back on the clothes she’d worn last night. Something else nagged at him, something important. Whatever it was, he’d remember eventually, his still waking mind now focused on the coffee maker with the full carafe. She had her own mug on the counter and appeared to be drinking from it as she cooked. “Morning,” he said gruffly as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “Didn’t think you’d stick around.”

She turned around at the sound of his voice, flashing a bright smile before returning her focus to whatever she was cooking. “I did step out to pick up a few things for breakfast. You can definitely tell a bachelor lives here.” A short riff of laughter escaped as she turned around to face him. “Your fridge was essentially nothing but beer and some take out dishes that had seen better days.”

No point denying this. He only had a handful of things around the kitchen food-wise because he almost always picked up something from one of the dozens of different places that offered various dinner specials. He nodded with a grunt as he worked on the fresh cup of coffee. There was something about last night he should remember, but he’d been so fucking wiped out after they’d finished that all he had thought about in those moments was the bliss of sleep. It was important, that much he did know. Why else would his brain keep whispering at him? His gaze flicked over to Naya, who was still working on the food. He remembered her speaking to him, though he’d been drifting off and barely conscious of what was going on around him. She’d spoken to him. He vaguely recalled her soft touch on his face, but it was the words that had gotten lost in the jumble of post sex glory. “Err...Naya, I gotta ask, love, but you said a name last night. What name did you say?”

She turned slowly, blinking at him briefly before flashing a weird smile. “I said your name.”

“You said my name?” he repeated with raised eyebrows. “And what name was that?”

Naya paused a moment, staring directly at him. There was a flicker of something across her face. There and gone just as quick, enough for him to almost believe he’d imagined it. Was it fear? Something else? She set the pan of food aside and turned back towards him, approaching him slowly and draping her arms around his shoulders. “I don’t want you to freak out, okay?” He could feel his panic starting to rise, even as she pressed herself against him, her full mouth just inches from his own. “I know who you really are.”

Part of him savored the touch and feel of her body, his cock in particular now rising with anticipation. Yet another part of him reeled with this admission, wanting desperately to break away and run for it. Run where though? She knew who he was? How did she know? When did she figure this out? Had she always known? His mouth fell open, the words dying on his lips. He wasn’t sure what to say. He could deny it, right? “Err...and who is that?” he asked finally.

“Murdoc Niccals, bassist of Gorillaz.”

“And you know this how?” His words had come out in a dry whisper. Fight or flight reflexes kicking into high gear even though the hot press of her body against him had him hard. How did she know this? Should he have kept up using his rusty German or donned a German accent? If she knew who he was, how many others knew?

Naya tilted her head, still excruciatingly close to him and it took everything he had not to push her away. He wanted to but didn’t want to. With the blood flow heading south, he was sure it was taking some IQ points with it. He must have looked horrified because her eyebrows twitched and furrowed before she slowly took a step back. “You really are on the run, aren’t you?”

“That’s not what I asked.” His eyes flickered over to the pan on the hob, realizing she had been making bacon and eggs. Focus, man. Sighing loudly, he flashed a small smile at her. “How did you figure it out?”

“I thought you looked familiar when you showed up at the bonfire,” she said, reclaiming her own mug of coffee. “When I had gone through your wallet, I found a picture of you with the others. I remembered reading an article about you guys not long ago where you all had disappeared and there was suspicion that you were running from the pirates or someone else.”

Though he was still internally freaking the fuck out, he had to maintain the poker face. If she’d meant harm, surely she would have already done it. After all, she’d had him with his guard down on two separate occasions now. He licked his dry lips, focusing on her face. “Why didn’t you say anything last night?”

“I didn’t want to scare you off.” She flashed another smile, pressing her lips against his briefly before turning back to the pan of food. “I’m not a psycho fan or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. Gorillaz wasn’t my thing.”

He still stood there gobsmacked and silent. What the hell could he say at this point? Maybe her knowing wasn’t such a bad thing? It was entirely possible he could get her to swear to silence. He knew he was entertaining these ideas because he needed a regular lay. As long as she wasn’t hoping to get more out of this than he was willing to give, no harm right? Reason did attempt to point out once again that she’d robbed him at one point but he drop kicked the bastard out of range, nursing his coffee and focusing on her arse as she worked on dishing up their food. If she was game for merely hooking up and hanging out, he could handle it. Ground rules would need to be discussed. First thing on the list being a promise from her that she tells no one about him. Then make it very clear he wasn’t interested in any kind of relationship short of fucking and maybe hanging out together. This wasn’t too unreasonable. Given her casual air, it was possible she saw it the same way. Hard to say. He still struggled with the fact that she was a fucking knock out and could easily snag someone much more conventionally handsome yet she had no qualms about hooking up with his crooked arse.

His thoughts were interrupted when she shoved a plate of bacon and eggs at him, her own plate of food in her other hand. “I suppose you have a lot of questions for me,” she said in a low voice, still smiling at him as she took a seat at his tiny little dining table.

“Err...yes and no,” he said with a shrug. “Dunno, really. Still trying to wrap my head around it.” He took a seat at the table and stared numbly at the plate of food. It smelled delicious but he felt like he was on high alert. He hated this conflict. Picking up the bacon and taking a bite, his eyes surfaced from the plate of food, meeting hers. “Since you now know a bit more about me, care to share a bit more about you?”

“I told you all the important parts,” she said through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “Where I’m from, how I got here...”

“How old are you?” The words had tumbled from his mouth before he could articulate how he had wanted to ask that question. Women were weird about age and shit, right? “I’m asking because you look quite young and just want to make sure I’m not robbing the cradle or whatever,” he chuckled as he took another bite from the bacon.

“No worries, man, I get it a lot actually,” she said through a soft laugh. “How old do I look to you?”

Murdoc’s words died at his lips, unwilling to possibly find himself on the receiving end of her wrath should he guess wrong. What if she was younger than he realized? He assumed early to mid thirties, but fucking hell, what if she was only in her twenties? “Err....early thirties?”

Naya erupted into a good natured laugh. “Thirty-nine, actually.”

He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or surprised. He probably wouldn’t have given a toss if she was in her late twenties because they’d already fucked but he also knew some people were weird about significant gaps in age. Not to mention the fact that he’d never cared much about age unless they looked young enough to land him in jail. “Well, you don’t look thirty-nine,” he said through a bite of his own eggs. “Anything about me you’d like to know?”

Naya chewed her food, a strangely thoughtful look on her face as she pondered over his question. He imagined she already knew enough from whatever articles she may have read. His age, profession, likes and dislikes were plastered all over the internet and print magazines going back over a decade. She washed the food down with another gulp of coffee before speaking. “Who are you hiding from?”

“Too many things,” he said quickly. It was entirely possible she already knew but he wasn’t exactly gung ho about getting into the nitty gritties of things. He still had pirates out for his head. It was possible the Man Downstairs sent Boogie back in an effort to hunt him down. Interpol had an interest in him, though they appeared to keep a distance. He reasoned it had to do with his dealings with the Black Clouds. And lastly, the sod from EMI who kept lurking around.

Naya nodded, but didn’t ask any further questions about it and he was grateful for this. They resumed their breakfast in silence. It was a comfortable silence and he could feel some of his fear and uncertainty melting away. He couldn’t even remember the last time he felt this comfortable while sober. Granted, he’d been pretty fucking lonely just hanging out with himself, the cat and the blasted machine. He wasn’t looking for anything solid and long term, but if she was game for a friends with benefits type arrangement, that would be fucking perfect. He rarely encountered any women who were interested in such an arrangement. And the small few that had agreed to it originally had started to get clingy and wanting more, which he’d never been willing to give. Reckon it wouldn’t hurt to cross that bridge now and at least get it out in the open before things got messy. “So,” he began, pausing just a moment in order to make sure he worded everything carefully, “what are your thoughts on what we did last night?”

Naya’s eyes surfaced from her almost finished plate of food. “I thought what we did was pretty self explanatory,” she chuckled. “We fucked. We both got off. I don’t expect flowers or a ring, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“That’s quite blunt,” he said through a snorting laugh. “So you don’t expect anything more out of it then? I just want to make sure you and I are on the same page here. No illusions and all. We had sex and that was it. Doesn’t mean we’re gonna date and live together or whatever.”

Her lip jutted out, quivering. “Seriously? I thought we had something great...like a connection!” His face went slack, mouth hanging open as he struggled quickly to figure out how to respond. She must have caught on to his panicked expression, cackling loudly at him as she slapped his arm. “I’m fucking with you, dude. Friends with bennies is fine. I wouldn’t assume it was more than that.”

He laughed to himself as he collected the empty plates and put them into the sink. Now that he had that sorted out, he could feel some of the things burdening his mind finally lifting. There was a risk of her wanting it to be more down the road if they continued to hook up, but at least for now they were on the same page and that was all he could ask for. If it seemed things were inching into clingy territory, he’d remind her where things stood and go from there. He had other questions for her, but wasn’t sure how to go about those questions. What about her partner in crime? Would that Greg bloke become a problem? Where did she live exactly? What happened if she robbed the wrong person and it led the authorities straight to his place? These were all solid questions that he probably should get clear answers for before they decided to run off into the friends with bennies sunset together, right?

He turned around, opening his mouth to speak, nothing but a strained sound escaping from him when he realized she was right there in front of him, her hand already massaging him through the thin fabric of the cotton pajama pants. Sweet fucking Satan, he could get used to this! Her full mouth curled into a devious smile as he grew hard against her palm. Still massaging his erection through the pajama pants, she shuffled him backwards against the counters, mouth pressed to his briefly before she dropped to her knees and pulled the waistband of the cotton pants down enough to release his cock. “Oh fffuck,” he groaned, his knuckles going white as he gripped the counter’s edge. Her mouth was on him, taking him in slowly. He thrust against her face reflexively, feeling her hands hold his hips to keep him stationary as she bobbed her head on his cock. Oh he could definitely get used to this. No doubt a-fucking-bout it. She couldn’t take all of it, but fucking hell could she do some spectacular work with her hand and tongue.

Glancing downward, he felt frozen in place seeing her hazel eyes gleaming up at him as she continued to worship his cock, mouthing and flicking her tongue against the head before wrapping her mouth around it again and taking it as far as she could. He wanted to thrust so badly, groaning loudly against the music, every muscle trembling as he struggled to keep himself from slamming into her face. There was a hand on his balls, a finger lazily dragging a nail across the skin between his balls and arse. When she broke away briefly, he uttered a sputtering protest. She slicked her finger with her tongue, returning her mouth to his cock while the slicked finger slid behind his balls and....oh fuck. He thrust against her face, a strangled moan pouring from his mouth as her finger slid inside of him. Wasn’t often he was the recipient of such play but he’d always welcomed it when it happened. It was always nice when he didn’t have to do all the work. Christ, she was going to make him cum in no time if she kept this up. The finger went in deeper and resolve was melting away. Every muscle felt weak as she worked her finger on him while her mouth bobbed and sucked his cock.

The orgasm hit him like a fucking train, everything fading out from his vision. All he could hear was static and his own heartbeat as he thrust against her mouth. She didn’t attempt to break away, allowing him to thrust into her mouth weakly while her hand pumped him carefully. As everything came back into focus, he wearily looked down at her, cracking a tired and spent smile. She slowly stood herself back up as he sagged against the counters. He was pretty sure she’d accomplished a world fucking record with this because the last time he’d cum this quick had probably been the late seventies. He could feel the weight of her hand against his face. Blinking, he shook his head as he took in her flushed and heated look. If she was hoping to have him reciprocate, she might need to give him a while. He could barely think. Yeah, he was definitely going to keep this woman around.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The video footage was blurry and pixelated, but Murdoc was willing to bet his left nut that the woman he’d seen in the grainy footage was his precious Noodle. He was alone in his place, Naya vanishing shortly after that stellar blowjob. Once alone, he’d gone back to the second bedroom to boot up the Cyborg and put it to task tidying up the condo. This gave him the chance to pick up some blow from his usual connection and return back home in time to get online, check his emails and poke around a bit. Maybe troll some fans for shits and giggles. It had been while surfing around and bullshitting with people that Cyborg had appeared in the room with word that another one of the Gorillaz band members had been located alive.

He held his cell phone with shaking hands as he played the video over and over again, feeling strange yet familiar emotions as he looked over paused stills in an effort to absorb every inch of her. It was her. He had little doubt in this. His guitar princess was alive. She’d survived the attack, just as Stu had! Should he reach out to her? Would she even talk to him? He had so many questions about how he should handle this and he honestly didn’t know where to start. This wasn’t like him. He always knew what to do! Well, maybe not as of late, but still! He examined the footage again and again. She was in Japan somewhere, that much he gathered from the background. Christ, if both her and Stu were alive, this meant there was a good probability that Russel was alive too!

Murdoc thought back to when Noodle had first arrived on the Kong Studios doorstep in the FedEx crate. He could remember being appalled and even a bit annoyed that they’d been sent a child and then there’d been panic over whether or not some kind of trafficking law had been violated. Whoever had sent the child had everything in order, legal documents in Japanese (which he’d had to have translated) more or less stating guardianship of the child would go to him. And while Murdoc had been her legal guardian, Russel had taken the girl under his wing. Murdoc had reasoned this made the most sense because he honestly didn’t know the first thing about taking care of a little girl. But that hadn’t meant he couldn’t have fun with her. The language barrier had sometimes made things difficult, but she appeared to enjoy hanging out with him. They’d play their guitars, sometimes even play the game console and whenever it was his turn to handle a doctor’s appointment, he always had made a point to take her out for ice cream afterward. Hadn’t she asked for a haircut once and he’d taken the clippers to her head, giving her some atrocious cut that had shocks of hair on the sides and the top but shaved clean everywhere else?

He chuckled at the memories, which seemed eons ago now. They’d gone through so many ups and downs as a band. He’d put on the air of indifference through out most of that time and the steady supply of willing tail and drugs certainly had helped maintain it. When they’d parted ways the first time, he’d gone balls to the walls and had ended up locked up in Mexico. He’d done what he had to in order to survive that but once the opportunity came around to get out, he’s snatched it up and hauled arse out of there and back to England. Noodle had already been at Kong, waiting for them all to return. Roles had been reversed by that point and instead of him comforting her from a nightmare, it had been her who comforted him when he’d go through nightmares of his time at the prison or some other catastrophe that had plagued his life up to that point. One particularly bad one had him shaken up pretty bad and he’d gone straight for the blow he had stashed away in a pair of jeans. Noodle had been there, not yet seen by him, and when she’d spoken, discouraging him from using the premium grade coke he’d scored, he had every intention of ignoring her. It had been what slipped from her when she tried to repeat herself. “Please don’t do this again, _Otousan_.”

 _Dad_. She had called him _Dad._

Murdoc frowned, the cell phone still in his hands. She could have chosen Russ for that honor. He’d been more of a father to her than Murdoc had ever been, but she had decided that it would be him. And he’d only known what the word meant thanks to when he and the other two had been trying to learn Japanese in an effort to communicate with her when she was younger. It hadn’t changed the fact that hearing that word come from her mouth had indeed made him take pause. As for why he’d been given this honor, she never said, but she had become more comfortable using it with him when it had just been the two of them. Like the night she’d asked about how to go about planning her departure from the band to take a lengthy holiday and enjoy her youth without the stress of concerts, publicity bullshit and whatever else they’d been going through at the height of the Demon Days album. “I need to do this, Otousan. Please don’t try to stop me.” She’d gone to him because she had trusted him to do as she asked without question and because he knew how to make it all look like an accident and leave less chanve of Russ and Stu trying to find her.

It took him a moment to realize a tear had escaped, trailing down his cheek as he replayed the video footage again of the slender young woman diving into the ocean and resurfacing with a bag of oysters. He frowned at the skimpy swimsuit she was wearing in the video, even diverting his eyes when he realized the swim bottoms clung against her rump in ways that made her anatomy way too fucking obvious for his comfort.

Okay, she was alive. What could he say to her though if he were to reach out? _Hey, sorry I left you to get killed by pirates, love. No hard feelings, right?_ Shit, she’d probably skewer him. And he deserved it too. He’d been so concerned about saving his own hide that he hadn’t given any of them much thought as he was escaping the island of trash. He hadn’t been in his right mind then, though. Hell, he rarely ever was in his right mind, but it had been particularly bad while he’d been hiding out at the Plastic Beach. He’d been completely isolated save for the dullard and the robot, paranoid and spending most of his free time drunk, high or both. He probably could have been classified as insane at that point.

He set his phone aside and lowered his head into his hands. Trying to reach out to her was out of the question. What if everyone looking for him were also keeping tabs on his band mates in the event he surfaced? Maybe he should just get a nose job to fix this mangled bastard on his face so he could just run off and not worry about being recognized ever again! There was a stellar thought right there. Buy himself a yacht and just travel around the ocean like a wealthy middle aged tosser with some barely legal eye candy on his arm. Actually, that might not be a bad idea. EMI had found him, so it probably was only a matter of time before the Clouds or even Boogie caught his scent again.

Rising up from the desk, he slipped out of the room and ventured to his bedroom. The Cyborg apparently had tidied up his room first because it was now mostly spotless and his bed was made. His wallet lay on his dresser and he fumbled through it until he found where he’d tucked away his score. It didn’t take long to get a few lines cut and snorted. Dabbing the remains off the surface, he rubbed his finger around his gums and teeth before putting everything away and strolling out to the lounge. It wouldn’t take long for shit to kick in and he’d soon be feeling a bit more himself. While the Cyborg worked on cleaning up the lounge around him, he simply planted his arse into the sofa and chain smoked through the afternoon. The sod from EMI had not yet made a return appearance and he was confident that they’d given up after he refused to answer the door. Good luck, mate. He’d been eluding people most of his fucking life. By the time they tried coming at him with more fire-power (or lawyers), he’d be long fucking gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His brain was soaring. The bathroom reeked of piss and bodies but it was as good as he was going to get for privacy. Murdoc leaned against the wall of the toilet stall as the young man who’d joined him unbuttoned the shorts in an effort to get to his cock. He closed his eyes, every part of him feeling like the nerve endings on his dick. Part of him entertained pinning the man against the wall and driving all eight inches into him. He was game for whatever. But hey, if the bloke wanted to give him a blowie, he wasn’t going to complain about that either! Go for it, mate, just watch the teeth.

His agent had once told him that he had to pick one or the other because fans were fickle beasts who could turn on him easily if he didn’t live up to whatever fantasy they had. Murdoc himself hadn’t even been fully aware of the fact that he was cool with shagging men until some time after their second album had been released. Sure, he’d done it a few times when he was high as a kite and – unknown to many – had resorted to selling himself to men when he’d been a young man himself without a job or a roof over his head back in Stoke, but overall he’d convinced himself that it had all been drug induced shags or survival. He definitely loved women, no doubt about that, but he was game for a round with a bloke if the mood suited him. Bird or bloke, each brought their own pleasures. Some women couldn’t suck cock no matter what but could fuck all night like a wild animal, which was fucking stellar. And some men weren’t interested in having a dick up their arse, but were well versed on how to give good head, which was equally as stellar. He rarely ever opted to be on the receiving end of a dick only because it made him think of those years he’d resorted to selling himself to the wretched old men outside the porn theater when he’d been barely out of secondary school.

The man in the toilet stall with him had done several lines himself and after feeling him up at the bar, had whispered filthy things in Murdoc’s ear, encouraging him to meet up in the toilet. Murdoc looked down casually at the man holding his erect cock. Some were a bit surprised someone of his stature and height had the kind of firepower he was wielding. He certainly wasn’t huge compared to others, but it was a well proportioned eight inches once fully hard. There’d also been those few who had expressed disgust over the fact that he wasn’t cut, the tip just peeking out of the foreskin when he was flaccid, but once hard most rarely noticed. The repulsion against uncircumcised dick seemed to be more of an American thing because he couldn’t remember too many instances back home or elsewhere in the world he’d been where anyone had a problem with how his dick looked.

As the strange man began to suck and lick at his cock, Murdoc let his head rest against the wall and weakly thrust. It was a bit sloppy but sufficient. There was an interesting little thing the man was doing with his tongue that made Murdoc utter a small groan. He was soon reaching a nice pace and momentum and this allowed Murdoc to reach behind to grab the partition above him so he had leverage to thrust into the man’s mouth, amazed at how easily the man swallowed down every inch. Oooh, this was actually pretty fucking hot. He thrust harder, feeling the building tension that told him release wasn’t far off. Though it was dark and visibility wasn’t great, he could see the man fondling himself as he continued to bob his head on Murdoc’s cock. He continued to pump his hips against the man’s face, now half growling as his hands came down to hold the man’s head. “You gonna swallow it or do I have to aim it elsewhere?” he panted.

The man broke away, almost gasping for air. “Feel like taking it farther?”

“Drop your trousers and turn the fuck around.” Sugary Beelzebub, the man was doing as he commanded, presenting a perky pair of cheeks at him as he bent forward and spread his legs as much as his pooling trousers would allow. Murdoc uttered a few strange growls as he stroked himself and got into position, feeling the man tense against the intrusion. “Gotta relax, mate,” he growled, slicking his hand and stroking it over his aching cock. After a few slow pumps, he managed to push himself fully in, the man bent against the other wall of the toilet stall moaning loud enough now for whoever else to hear. Whatever, he was in too deep now to stop. He gripped down onto the man’s hips, driving against the man’s arse as hard as he could, grunting and growling over the man’s moans as he took every inch to the hilt. The bliss snugness was going to be short-lived because release was a few pumps away. He reached around, gripping the man’s own erection, pumping him in pace with his thrusts, face resting against the man’s back as he picked up his pace. “You ready for it?” he growled, nipping at the man’s shoulder, pumping his hand faster. When the man uttered noises that were little more than mewling sounds, Murdoc chuckled against his back, thrusting hard against the man’s rump, the slap of skin now the only thing heard above their own groans. The man bucked beneath him, pumping into his hand as Murdoc pressed himself against him as deep as he could, crying out when release slammed down. Once again lost briefly in bliss of white noise and the sound of his heartbeat pounding. The man bucked a few more times, moaning against the wall as he came shortly after, wetness and warmth now covering Murdoc’s knuckles.

Disengaging from the stranger’s body, he grabbed some tissue paper and wiped at his hand with a grimace. The man worked slowly as he tried to pull up his trousers and get them buttoned up. Murdoc peeled the condom away and tossed it to the toilet, flashing a thankful smile at the man as he pulled up his shorts and buttoned them up. The man turned to face him, pressing himself close, mouth diving towards his. Murdoc felt the man’s lips brush against his, his somewhat relaxed state snapping to attention. He uttered a squawk of surprise, pushing the man back. “No kissing, remember? We went over this before we even came in here, mate.”

The man was young, but not that young. Murdoc probably had about fifteen or twenty years on him. He actually hadn’t really given the man much focus, more interested in the idea of a coke induced shag in the toilets. Icy blue eyes, a well proportioned face that looked almost boyish. Close cropped black hair that may or may not have been dyed. He looked at Murdoc in confusion, almost hurt at the realization that this nice older man who shagged like a god wouldn’t be bringing him home.

Slipping out of the stall, Murdoc washed his hands quickly and exited the bathroom entirely. A few heads turned in his direction but they went back to minding their business. Most of the men were occupied with one another or sitting alone and drinking. He debated briefly over whether he wanted to seat himself back at the bar or just leave. Grabbing another drink or two wouldn’t hurt. Give himself a chance to cool down and savor what he could of the post shag glow. He took note of a few giving him a casual one over as he sauntered across the club back to the bar. He was able to reclaim the stool he’d originally been sitting in and the bartender was already shoving a brightly colored drink at him.

Sipping it casually, he scanned around the club, barely able to hear himself think over the insanely loud music playing. Some were dancing and he was certain he spotted others getting down to business in booths and darkened corners. The drink wasn’t half bad. A bit sweeter than what he was accustomed to having, but it would work. He fumbled around for his wallet and offered the bartender some cash, but the man shook his head and gestured over across the dancefloor. Oh, someone had purchased this for him? He looked around slowly, hoping that whoever had bought the drink wasn’t expecting anything in return because he was spent for the night. His gaze fell to the booth near the back, a couple seated across from one another. A man and a woman. A man and a woman in a club that catered primarily to gay and bisexual men? Okay, not completely unheard of, but not very common. He nursed the drink, his eyes on the newcomers who were now staring back at him. The woman...he recognized her. His heart slammed in his chest, almost in his throat as she leaned forward into the light. Her face was mangled and scarred from when he’d set off the explosives on the beach in his effort to protect the island. Booby traps he and the Cyborg had planted when the robot had indicated it had picked up aircraft on its radar. The woman smiled at him and there was nothing kind in that smile.

No, this couldn’t be. He could have sworn he’d seen her blown to bits but clearly he had been mistaken because she was sitting right fucking there! What had her name been? They called her something cliché as fuck...Medusa. Second in command of the Black Clouds. First in command now because one of his booby traps had killed her boss. Which meant the man with her might have been that one toady she’d always had with her. He’d dealt with them both when selling the weapons and drugs. Weapons that hadn’t worked and drugs that had been cut so much they might as well been useless. He shoved the drink away and began to frantically look around for an escape. How the fuck had he been found? First EMI and now these tossers?

Murdoc nearly fell to the floor in his frantic effort to get off the barstool. When Medusa and her lackey got up from the booth, he darted through the dancefloor and the thick of bodies, managing to duck away and out a back door through the kitchen. He was too fucking high right now and could barely think. He needed to get back home. Get the Cyborg ready in case they figured out where he lived. Chances were, they already were heading in that direction, but he had a few tricks up his sleeve still. Short cuts that only the locals knew about. Sweating and shaking, he swiped at his face and started jogging towards the beach. He knew where he could cut through. He’d reach home at least a solid thirty minutes before they arrived. Get there, get barricaded and holy fuck, get the Cyborg back online as a fucking war machine because no way in hell was he going to face off with these twats without backup.


	6. Into The Night

Slamming the door behind him, he secured the deadbolt and rushed to the dining area to grab a chair, shoving it beneath the knob as hard as he could. He was soaked with sweat, his shirt clinging to him and even his shorts clinging at his thighs and arse. Did they know where he lived? How the fuck had they tracked him down? Was it possible they’d gotten wind of when EMI had managed to locate him? Christ, did it matter anymore? These arseholes had managed to track him down.

“Cyborg, front and center!” he barked, swiping the sweat from his face with shaking hands. When the machine appeared before him in the foyer, he circled around to the back of it, opening up the little control panel in the back of its head. It required little more than a couple of switches to be flicked over. Closing the panel, he went back around to face it. “Primary objective: protect Murdoc Niccals, Master Bass Player and God. Avoid civilian casualties unless there is no choice and avoid destruction of the condo, but you are free to use whatever other force necessary. Does this compute?”

“Yes, sir.” It stood straight as a soldier, saluting crisply. “Protect Murdoc Niccals, Master Bass Player and God. Weapons online. Avoid destruction of domiciles and no use of deadly force if civilian casualties cannot be avoided.”

Nodding his head, he rushed to the bedroom and stripped away the sweaty clothing. Changing into some cotton trousers and a lightweight short sleeved, he fumbled beneath his bed and pulled out a few large cases. He had only so many weapons. A few handguns and some kind of rifle he didn’t know the name of. He just knew it fired off several rounds at once and could blast out the back of a skull if it hit you in the head. He grabbed some clips, locking one of them in place with the rifle. Didn’t he have some kevlar tucked away in the back of the closet? He was still high as fuck and had to keep taking a step back to sort his thoughts out. Yes, he had a kevlar vest hanging in the back of the closet. Go and grab it. You know damned well that bitch is armed to the teeth herself.

It took a few attempts due to shaking hands, but he finally managed to get the kevlar on and buckled in. Slinging the rifle over his shoulder, he stepped carefully through the condo, shutting down lights left and right. Once back in the foyer, he slid down the wall to his rump, taking a few deep breaths. Should have known that bitch didn’t die. He’d seen the explosives go off and had watched as her face caught the worst of the blast. Medusa had never been a pretty woman to begin with and no doubt the burn scars didn’t help. Chiseled and squared features, deep set green eyes, long blond hair that she kept mostly shaved off save for a strip that ran down the center of her head to a long braid in the back. She was an enormous woman too. Broad shoulders, muscles that could put Arnie to shame and standing well over six feet tall with hands that were bigger than his own fucking head. He’d dealt with her the most when it came to handling the weapon and drug deals arranged by her former boss. Of course she’d take over as the leader. She was made for this.

He swallowed back the whimper that threatened to escape when he saw the slice of car headlights flash through his blinds. The Cyborg stood stock still where he’d left it, two handguns clutched in its grip. Okay, Murdy, breathe. It’s just that neanderthal looking bitch and her lackey. They haven’t called for the cavalry yet. Probably don’t think they need it. In the darkness of the condo, the only thing he could hear was his own labored breathing and pounding heart. From outside, he could hear car doors slamming and the low crunch of footsteps followed by a heavily accented male voice complaining about the humidity. “How can people live here? The insects are big enough to put saddles on them!” He was hushed abruptly by Medusa and soon the only thing Murdoc could hear was the crunch of footsteps. They were circling around the single level buildings. It was possible they didn’t know which unit was his. Each building contained four units with narrow little patios. It was a large complex that housed probably hundreds of people.

They were just outside his unit, talking to each other in hushed voices. Murdoc pricked his ears, straining to hear what they were saying. Though they were right on the other side of the wall he lay against, they actually had no idea which unit was his and were trying to figure out if they should wait it out and see where he popped up or simply storm every building. Smart criminals they clearly were not. Murdoc couldn’t help but snicker at this. His snicker cut short when he realized he was overhearing the neanderthal bitch suggest they kick down doors and just kill whomever was inside and they’d find him eventually. Now why the hell would they do that? Yeah, they were definitely thick. More than thick. They started kicking in doors and killing people at random, they’d end up with the full force of the entire police department and probably SWAT on their arses within no time. No offense, but he wasn’t all that interested in getting caught in the middle of that shit. Either way, best to get clear of the door and figure out his next move. Bracing the weapon against his body, he crept on all fours across the floor and veered down the hallway. The Cyborg remained positioned at the foyer. Good, stay put. It would be able to hold the fort long enough for him to try to get the fuck out of there without being seen.

The sounds of crashing, breaking and gunfire reached his ears as he slipped into his room. It sounded like it was coming from one of the buildings on the other side of the pool. Christ, they really were going door to fucking door? He froze in the hallway, hearing more sounds of chaos outside. They really were doing it. Gunfire and screams echoed into the evening. Somewhere in the distance sirens could be heard. Murdoc huddled down to his belly, crawling down the hallways towards his bedroom. If he tried making a run for it, he risked being spotted. So far there was nothing indicating the Cyborg was about to go into battle and he was willing to thank whatever deities out there for his brief good fortune. He had to get out of there, though. It was only a matter of time before Medusa and her lackey crashed through his place and started firing away. “Oi, Cyborg! We need an evacuation route!”

He could feel the walls and floor trembling around him. Another loud blast from somewhere in the distance, followed closely with gunfire, screams and now the distant smell of smoke. Fuck, it was the attack on Point Nemo all over again. Well, at least he could say he managed to get laid before he died, right? Still pressed to the laminate floors, he erupted into a bitter laugh. Of course it would be his luck this is how it all happened. Finally gets laid – some epic lays at that – only to get offed by that psychotic Russian cunt and her little French lackey. Probably the first ever criminal circle he’d encountered that was equal opportunity employment. They didn’t give a toss about your gender or where the hell you came from as long as you were down with killing people indiscriminately. He couldn’t figure out how they figured out he was alive when he’d managed to conjure up the dark magic clone back at the Plastic Beach. Shouldn’t that thing have thrown them off his trail? He didn’t know and honestly it was too late to care because they had found him and were destroying a condominium residence in their effort to flush him out, killing everyone in their path.

Just like last time and every other time before, things were going to shit and it was all his fault. He was the common denominator in nearly every cock up. He remained flat on the floor, hearing the sounds of destruction all around him. They must have brought others with them. He could hear gunfire coming from the east side of the complex and screaming over in the west side of the complex. He couldn’t move, fear holding him in place as he tried desperately to think of a way out of this. It was only a matter of time before they raided his unit and the last place he needed to be was plastered to the floor ready to soil himself. He took a few deep breaths, pushing himself upright to his knees. Movement beneath the bed alerted him that the poor cat was probably shitting himself. Hunter could probably sense the danger. Animals were weird like that, weren’t they? Murdoc took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, scrubbing his hands across his face as he got to his feet. “Come on, Bubs...let’s get your carrier. Gotta get our arses outa here, mate.” He really had lost the plot hadn’t he? Talking to the fucking cat as if he understood.

He got to his feet and darted to the small walk in closet, spying the cat carrier immediately. The hard part would be getting the bugger into the carrier because he hated the fucking thing. Murdoc couldn’t blame him for this because the carrier usually meant a trip to the vet. Christ, he had really gone soft lately...worrying about a fucking cat. Grumbling under his breath, he threw the carrier onto the bed and dropped back to his belly, peering under the bed and seeing Hunter backed up to the far wall all poofed up and looking around in terror. He hated this vulnerable position, knowing if Medusa or her lackey finally raided his place, he would literally be a sitting duck. Murdoc slid under the bed as much as he dared, reaching out towards the still horrified cat. Scooting further in, his fingers brushed against the side of the cat’s shoulder. Almost there. More reaching, groaning as he twisted himself at an odd angle in order to reach for the blasted cat, finally managing to get a solid grip on the scruff of Hunter’s neck. “Look, mate, I don’t want you dying in this place so let’s go!” He pulled the howling cat out from under the bed and struggled frantically to get him into the carrier, finally managing to get him in there and close the door.

Sitting upright, he froze when he felt something pressed to his head and the sound of a gun cocking. Setting the carrier down, he raised both hands up slowly, his heart now slamming so hard in his chest he was sure he would keel over from a heart attack. The person wielding the gun let out a low chuckle before he spoke. “We knew we’d find you eventually, enculé.”

Murdoc closed his eyes and held his breath. It was the end of the line. The Cyborg should have stopped the little Frenchman, but it was possible the man had crept in through the window of the master bedroom bathroom. It was the only way he could have gotten in without alerting the android of his presence. Murdoc swallowed hard, bracing himself for the final shot that would end it all, part of him now wishing he’d reached out to Dents and Noodle. He was going to die and never be heard from again. Stu, Noodle and Russ may very well reunite and would never know what became of their band leader. Murdoc braced himself for the kill shot, sweat breaking out across his entire body. Satan would get what was owed to him after all.

He felt the muzzle of the gun move away from his head. Every muscle tensed as he prepared for the gun report that meant the end. When the gun fired, he dropped to the floor, one ear ringing and sending spikes of pain through his head. Fucking hell, he couldn’t hear anything. He braced a hand to his right ear, groaning as he rolled slowly on the floor. Two figures stood over him, one of them staring off at the far wall with a weird look of shock on his face. Murdoc’s mouth moved silently, watching as Medusa’s lackey fell in a heap to the floor. Blinking, Murdoc slowly looked up, seeing another figure still standing over him with a bloodied knife in their hand. It took him several moments to realize that he was staring at Naya. “W-wha-what the fuck?” he stammered, recoiling when she extended a hand out towards him.

“Let’s go, man,” she whispered urgently, shaking her hand at him. “That gigantic bitch is in the next building and she’s brought reinforcements. We don’t have much time!” She wasn’t dressed in her usual hippy garb and he had to do a double take, seeing that she was wearing a plain t-shirt with jeans and boots with her red curls pulled into a snug braid. When he still couldn’t will himself to move, she uttered a sigh of annoyance and grabbed his arm, hauling him to his feet. “Don’t forget your cat.”

“Who...? What...? How...?” So many fucking questions ran through his head as he tried to absorb what had just happened. She literally just stabbed the twat and let him drop, completely unconcerned with what she’d just done.

Naya wiped the blade against the bedding and tucked the knife into a small sheath on her hip. “I’ll explain once we’re clear of this mess, Murdoc. Grab your cat, the robot and let’s get the hell out of here before that psycho bitch reaches this apartment.” She was gathering some clothes and tossing them into a bag. He caught a glimpse of his galaxy kitty briefs before she crammed them into the overnight bag with a few more pairs of colorful and amusing undergarments. The bag seemed like it would burst as she crammed more things into it. He spotted shirts, shorts, even a few pairs of jeans. Some of the things were hanging out of the bag. She turned towards him and gestured towards the doorway of the bedroom. “I’d grab your laptop if I were you. Got your cell phone?”

He nodded, still mostly numb and unable to will his body to move. Naya gave him a hard nudge through the bedroom door. He blinked, head snapping to his left as he darted across the hall to the second bedroom. He had so many questions, but she was right. They needed to get the hell out of there if they wanted to live. Plenty of time to ask once they got somewhere safe. “Cyborg!” he barked as he shoved the laptop into its bag. “We’re evacuating! Retreat!”

He could hear the staccato steps of the android, perking his head up and seeing it emerge through haze and smoke. Over the sounds of the Cyborg’s brisk steps, destruction could be heard and he realized it was literally right next door to him. He gestured wildly for the Cyborg to follow and rushed back to the master bedroom. Naya was already peering out of an open window, the pet carrier in hand. She disappeared through the window, popping up and gesturing for him to follow. He cast one last look at his little condo paradise. He’d really enjoyed it here. Though he’d never been very social with his neighbors, he couldn’t help the weird feelings of guilt as their screams and cries for help echoed through the darkness. He shouldn’t give a damn about them but he did because they hadn’t asked for this. Innocent people caught in the crosshairs of his bullshit. Sound familiar, you rotten old tosser? Sighing, he climbed through the window and landed soundlessly onto the paved pathway beside Naya.

Once the Cyborg had successfully climbed through the window, the trio remained low as they crept down the path and through the foliage. They emerged in the court yard of the condo complex and Naya froze briefly before turning and darting to the other side. They cut through more foliage before popping out in a narrow alley that slowly climbed upward before cresting half a mile up. He recognized it as the neighborhood behind the condominium complex, seeing kids and adults alike playing in the alley often. Of course there was nobody in the alley now, not with the late hour. They moved quickly but silently, running uphill up the alley and reaching the crest of the hill before cutting through someone’s backyard and finally stopping just outside a little bungalow with a wicker swing on its porch. Murdoc stiffened when sirens screamed by, too close for his comfort. They were heading towards the complex, which he could now see from the narrow front porch. It appeared to be half in flames and filling the night sky with smoke and death. Medusa really did have reinforcements in the wings for when she located him. He couldn’t imagine two people doing the damage he was seeing from the bungalow porch. Several of the buildings were on fire and he could even see flickers of shadows that were probably people running for their lives as the pops of gunfire sprinkled the air.

Naya unlocked the bungalow door and ushered them inside. Locking the door behind her, she closed all the front curtains and flicked on a single light. Murdoc unshouldered the rifle strap and let the weapon slide to the floor. He was still shaking, certain he’d soiled himself when he’d felt the gun on the back of his head. Hopefully it was just sweat. The Cyborg remained at his side, waiting for whatever command he might give, but he was too shaken to do much more than utter a groan and finally sink back against the wall behind him and drop to the floor on his rump. “What the fuck just happened?”

“The Clouds happened,” Naya said in a matter of fact tone. “Did you really think they’d let you just walk away after fucking them over and then blowing up half their men?”

Murdoc’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing at the woman as she briskly walked into the kitchen and started rummaging around. Who the hell was this woman? What was her purpose? So she wasn’t some vagabond thief? He usually could read people pretty well and he had been certain he had her mostly figured out but this shit was way out of left field! “Oi, what the hell did I just see back there, Naya? What happened to that free spirit hippy Oliver Twist shit I saw barely a week ago?”

She emerged from the kitchen holding a couple of bottled waters and two bananas. Tossing the water bottle in his direction, she dropped into a threadbare recliner. “You saw me kill someone who would have killed you if I hadn’t stopped them.” She uncapped her water and drained half of it in a few gulps. “What you saw days ago was nothing more than a part I played. Sorry if you feel deceived.”

He shook his head, not wanting to believe it. “A _part you played_? You can’t be serious! You shagged my brains out twice, not even including knocking one out for me the next morning!”

Her stern expression softened as she unpeeled a banana. “That was _very_ real. And I meant what I said over breakfast. If you’re still interested in hooking up now and again, I’m game. But first, we get need to get clear of Medusa and the Black Clouds.”

“Still doesn’t explain why you showed up at my place and killed someone without even batting an eye!” he barked back, hating the tremble in his voice. “Who are you really? Christ... _what_ are you? M16? CIA? Mercenary? Do I need to watch me own arse with you too?”

Naya rolled her eyes, smirking through another drink of water. “Look, dude, if I wanted you dead, you’d be dead already.”

No, this wasn’t good enough. He wanted a real explanation. Great, she won’t shank him when his back is turned, but this doesn’t explain who and what she was. His face settled into a deep frown as he uncapped his water and took a drink. So what exactly was happening? Should he be thanking her for saving his skin? Christ, he was still flying high off the blow too so this wasn’t helping. Every thought and question rushed through his mind on warp speed. He sucked off the water bottle greedily, still staring at her across the room in the recliner. He was actually surprised at how different she seemed now. Snug jeans, boots and a well fitted t-shirt, a gun holster on her hips. He thought her beautiful before but it seemed nothing at all like how she looked sitting before him now. “So...what do I call you?” he asked finally. “Assuming Naya isn’t your real name...”

She cocked a copper eyebrow. “My name really is Naya, Murdoc. Most of what I told you was the truth. I really did decide it was time for a change after my marriage went tits up. But I only got here to Hawaii about six months ago. Greg was my cover.”

“You’re a cop?”

“No,” she laughed. “I was sent to keep you out of trouble and keep you alive. The robbery was merely a set up in order to verify it was indeed you and to get you close once you saw us again because we knew the phone was important. I took the blow because, as I said, I’m being paid to make sure you don’t fucking die.” Rising up from the recliner, she grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the table and lit one while tossing an unlit one in his direction. “You live quite the life, Mister Niccals. Had no idea you were still into coke and I certainly had no idea you were into men too. Most of what I was told about you indicated you generally liked women.”

“Welcome to the twenty-first century, lovey,” he grumbled as he lit his cigarette. “You know how shitty it is to have to hide something about yourself because the record label is worried it will kill their sales? Hell, I wasn’t even really aware of what I liked until I was fucking forty....women are great and I will probably pick them over anything but men do bring something interesting to the table.”

“Murdoc, there’s no judgment from me, I hope you realize that.” She seated herself down onto the floor beside him and rested a hand on his thigh. Though he could smell blood and sweat on her, he realized he could still smell the coconuts. It must have been some kind of body spray or lotion. Naya smoked her cigarette, staring at the glowing red cherry on the end, her eyes almost distant. “I know this is all coming as a shock for you, dude. It’s a mind fuck, I get it...e _specially_ with the amount of coke you did back at that club. But I want you to trust me, okay? If you had figured out what I really was, there was a risk of you running again and it took me almost a year to track you down. I can’t afford to lose track of you.”

Murdoc lifted his head, staring at her with bleary eyes. “Care to tell me who sent you to babysit me?”

“Sorry, man, no-can-do,” she said with a shake of her head. Giving his leg a squeeze, she pushed herself to her feet and grabbed his hand to pull him up. “We can stay here tonight. You’ll need to ride out whatever blow is left in your system anyway. We’re gonna need to get off this island within a day or two. The Black Clouds know you’re here somewhere and they will raze this entire town to the ground to look for you.”

“Can I take a shower?” he asked hoarsely, stubbing the half smoked cigarette out. “I wasn’t exactly able to get myself sorted after being at the club.”

Naya handed him the overnight bag she’d hurriedly packed for him. “Get showered. You reek like cigarette smoke, desperation and stale jizz anyway.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the rush to pack some belongings, they apparently had forgotten several things. Namely his lounge pants, deodorant or even his toothbrush. Murdoc blinked at the bag, shoulders sagging in his exhaustion. He was tired and sore from the adrenaline comedown. Almost dying didn’t help either. He’d escaped certain death once again and well, that was enough to take the wind out of any man’s sails. Though his brain was still firing off all cylinders, the rest of him could easily collapse to the floor and sleep. At least he was showered and feeling somewhat human. He dried himself quickly and pulled on a pair of neon green briefs that he thought were covered in multi-colored polka dots, but closer inspection had revealed them to be individual Skittle candies. When the hell had he ordered these? He was probably drunk when he ordered them. Whatever, they’re dry and you’re clean. Be happy because you couldn’t have died in sweaty clothes and a dick that reeked of used sweaty condom.

Naya raised an eyebrow at the briefs but said nothing as she slipped into the bathroom after him, closing the door and leaving him alone in the lounge. He could hear the shower running and figured this would give him a chance to really look around. He’d already figured out it was her place because he spotted some of the hippy style clothing hanging off a small clothes line she’d stretched across the dining room area. It was such a tiny little home. A single bedroom, one bathroom, a kitchen that would make someone claustrophobic and a narrow little lounge with wood paneled walls that had been painted over a rather quaint powder blue. There wasn’t much in the way of personal belongings, though he did spot a photo sitting on a table by the recliner. He picked it up to take a look, realizing he was staring at Naya as a youngster – no more than twelve or thirteen – with an older couple he could only assume were her parents. To the left of her was a dark skinned man with kind brown eyes and a broad brilliant smile, much like he’d seen on Naya herself and on the right was a light skinned woman with dark blond hair, green eyes and equally brilliant smile.

“Yes, that’s my Mom and Dad,” she said suddenly, startling him. When he perked his head up, she was merely standing in the lounge clad in nothing but underwear and a tank top. She approached him slowly and took the photo from his hands, setting it back to the table. “My mom passed away a few years ago. Dad still lives in Colorado.”

“They’re very beautiful people,” he said softly. “I can see where you got your knock-out looks.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she said with a small laugh. She cocked an eyebrow, almost smirking at him. “I’m actually a bit surprised at how mellow you are. Everything I was told by my employer indicated you were a bit of a high strung mess. Imagine my surprise when this weird looking older dude shows up at the bonfire, dressed like your average tourist.”

“How did you even know I would show up at that bonfire?” He dropped into a small sofa, sighing with relief as he sank into the cushions. “Weren’t you worried I wouldn’t make any kind of contact with you?”

“Oh I would have made sure we connected one way or another,” she said confidently as she lit herself another cigarette and tossed one in his direction. “I wasn’t even banking on you showing up at the bonfire because I was still trying to verify that I’d tracked you down. Only had a few leads.”

Murdoc lit his cigarette and took a hard drag from it, exhaling smoke through his twisted nose. “Won’t your employer frown upon you shagging your mark?”

Naya flashed a devious smile. “I’m an independent contractor, Murdoc. I’m paid to keep you alive and out of trouble. How I do it isn’t anyone’s concern.”

Snickering, he gazed around the small lounge. Sparsely furnished with an old tube telly sitting on a crate. Matter of fact, the only furniture she had in there was the recliner, a two seater sofa, the crate with a telly and a small table between the recliner and sofa. She said she’d only been in Hawaii about six months. Renting the bungalow was probably cheaper than staying out of a hotel. There were other questions he had, but wasn’t sure where to start. After the night that had just gone down, he was frazzled and discombobulated. He had no idea what the hour was. The sun wasn’t up yet, so he guessed it couldn’t have been later than two or three in the morning.

His gaze flicked over to Naya, who was now focused on going through her phone as she smoked her cigarette. She had managed to sneak into his home and kill a person without making a sound and people like that weren’t just independent contractors used to babysit an unruly rock star. She had successfully blended into the town, even had him convinced she was merely some carefree hippy who robbed tourists. She’d had a fucking gun holstered on one hip with a knife sheathed on the other hip. She’d successfully gotten them off the condominium property without being seen. “I have to ask,” he said finally. “What do you do exactly when you’re not being paid to babysit rock gods?”

Naya cracked a broad smile. “Are you sure you want an answer to that question?”

“Humor me, love.”

“Remember how I told you my marriage fell apart and I decided I needed a change?” When he nodded in response, she continued. “I wasn’t a paralegal. That was what my husband thought I was. I worked for part of the government but it was a lot of top secret shit so the paralegal stuff was just a bullshit cover. I was gone a lot, traveling, and, well...handling those that were deemed _problems_ by my employer.”

Murdoc wanted to laugh because it sounded like she was admitting to being some kind of government assassin. Her expression was serious though and this made him take pause. It would explain how she had been able to stealthily enter the condo and take out that rotten little Frenchman. Christ, it just seemed so ludicrous! Yet even as these thoughts crossed his mind, he realized it was possible. Aside from the fact she had a banging body, she was toned and muscular. She would have to be, right? And though he’d convinced himself she had fit in well with the hippy culture, he had pin pointed that there was something else about her that didn’t quite fit. Chewing over this information, he took a drag from his cigarette, looking over at her. “So you were like...what do they call it over there? CIA?”

“Not quite,” she said with a laugh.

“So, did the husband find out your secret identity?” he asked with a toothy smile.

Something in her expression made him regret the joking question. She looked almost sad as she stared at her burning cigarette, chewing at her lower lip. “No,” she said finally. “Not sure what happened or why, but I came home one day and found out he’d cleared out most of the house, our bank accounts and had left divorce papers on the table in the kitchen.”

“Ouch, that’s fucking cold,” he hissed with a whistle.

“No shit,” she said, trying to laugh it off. “Figured this was a sign from the gods, really. Especially when I found out I had no legal recourse to get a single fucking cent back that he’d wiped from the account. Joint account, community property state...he essentially got to keep it. He woulda left me penniless if I hadn’t tucked a few grand aside in a separate account.” She got to her feet, wandering towards the kitchen. He could hear the sounds of a fridge and the familiar clink of bottles. When she returned, she was holding a couple of Coronas on her hands, handing one to him and then planting herself beside him on the two seater. “I severed my contracts with the main agencies I worked with after that asshole cleaned me out. Decided to go into business for myself. I am a jack of all trades,” she laughed, raising her bottle. “Need someone erased? I can do it. Need some spoiled rock star kept on a short leash? I can do that too! Need said spoiled rock star kept alive and out of the way of all the people he’s fucked over? I’m your chick.”

Murdoc raised his bottle. “Cheers, love. Marriage is fucking over rated. Always best to be a free agent – in both sex and careers.”

“Oh, being a free agent is fun, but it gets lonely.” She flashed a broad smile, resting her hand on his thigh. “You never married or settled down with anyone? I figured at your age, you’d at least have a divorce or two under your belt.”

He choked against his beer, laughing and hacking into his hand. “Sweet Satan, no!” Wiping at his mouth, he shook his head. “I’ve got too much love to keep it confined to a single person for the rest of my days, love.”

Naya frowned, tipping back her beer and taking a few drinks from it. “You can’t seriously tell me there isn’t some former Missus Niccals out there lamenting over missing out on your success.”

“If there is, I dunno about her,” he cackled. “Not gonna lie, Naya, there’s probably about fifteen years of my life that is kind of a blur nowadays. Anything coulda happened then.” He was half joking. His twenties were definitely a blur, but he figured if he had unwittingly gotten hitched, the unlucky lady would have surfaced by now.

“Any kids?” she asked with raised eyebrows.

“Six that I’m aware of.” He gave a half hearted shrug and took another drink from the bottle. “Five are adults and I think there’s one state-side somewhere that’s a tot.”

Naya cocked an eyebrow. “You _think_ there’s one state-side?”

Murdoc cracked a toothy smile. “Never verified if it was actually mine or not. Most likely is. Some bird I hooked up with on the west coast towards the end of the last tour.” He cast a side glance, catching her clearly disapproving expression. “Oi, I’m not a deadbeat or anything! I pay her maintenance to keep her mouth shut and take care of the little souvenir I left behind.”

Erupting into a snorting laugh, Naya gave his thigh a squeeze. “You’re fine, man. You’re fine. Kids are a mess. Not my thing either. I imagine Jake woulda left me over that if not for whatever reasons he did. He’d wanted them and I did not.” She reached over and grabbed the holstered gun. “Kinda hard to settle down with a family when you travel around and do what I do.”

“From your mouth to God’s ears, love,” he said with a nod. They continued to drink their beers in comfortable silence. He was exhausted. His brain was finally starting to slow its roll and even Naya looked pretty knackered. He couldn’t deny that he was enjoying the view. Tits tucked away nicely in the tank top and the chill in the air made for some interesting visuals through the cotton top. The panties were a skimpy little number that only just concealed her from prying eyes. Smooth and silky thighs, a toned stomach and muscled arms that were now resting comfortably against him. He reached out and ran his palm over the thigh that was inches from his. Her skin was prickly and damp still from the shower and the humidity. “So...I take it I’m sleeping on the sofa here?” he asked finally, peering over at her.

Naya’s brow twitched briefly as she turned her head to look at him. He wasn’t sure if she was seriously considering that or not. He never did get a chance to see what her bedroom looked like. Maybe she only had a twin bed? She took a breath, pulling the empty bottle from his hands and setting it and her own empty onto the side table. “Wanna fuck again?”

Cracking a devious smile, he pushed himself to his feet and grabbed her hand. “Lead the way, love.”


	7. Flawed Design

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: EXPLICIT SEX, FLASHBACKS, ASSAULT, ETC

The taxi ride was mostly uneventful. Murdoc stared out the window at the passing palm trees, ferns and low slung bungalows as they went to their next destination. They’d remained at Naya’s little house for two days before departing. Murdoc hadn’t minded this at all because though his nerves had been frazzled and he was one ambush away from a coronary, they’d spent most of the time hiding out in the bedroom. Dozing, fucking, sleeping, dozing and fucking some more. Getting a laugh at Hunter howling outside the closed door, the poor bastard having no idea what the hell was going on. Two days of bliss and being able to momentarily forget why he was hiding out in this tiny little bungalow. The attack on the condos had made the local news with word that only some of the perpetrators had been either killed or apprehended. Since the ones captured weren’t talking, the authorities had no idea what happened or why it happened. Naya pointed out that they’d probably need to skip off to one of the other islands in order to get out of there without being noticed. Murdoc hadn’t cared at this point, just wanting to put as much distance between him and that psychotic She-Hulk as he could.

Ferries were the main way to bounce from island to island and the taxi driver would be dropping them off at the ferry dock. It was the final ferry ride that would take them over to Honolulu and from there, Naya mentioned hiding out at a massive resort on the western side of the island. The plan was to lay low and hope Medusa assumed he’d bounced off the islands altogether. Whether this plan would work or not was another story, but Murdoc figured hiding out in a heavily populated tourist resort was a stellar plan because if The Black Clouds’ leader was trying to hunt him down, she could easily assume he’d gotten the fuck out of dodge and wasn’t even on the islands anymore.

Upon reaching the dock, Murdoc paid the cabbie and they gathered their belongings. They’d dressed as tourists, looking utterly foolish in gaudy Hawaiian shirts with wide brimmed hats and shades, even Cyborg dressed up in matching shit. Naya looked amazing, even with the tacky shirt, wearing simple denim shorts with some fancy leather sandals and heart shaped sunglasses. Murdoc probably looked like a nob, wearing khaki cargo shorts with some ugly strappy sandals and aviator sunglasses. He still couldn’t get past the absurdity of them wearing the same fucking shirt. The plan had been to pose as a family on holiday with the Cyborg being unlucky enough to be counted as their daughter. He was still a bit surprised that Naya never questioned the Cyborg. She’d known about it when she’d saved his hide back at the condo and though he caught her staring at it, she never asked much about it.

He wanted the Cyborg to carry their bags because he wasn’t interested in hauling his shit around when there was perfectly capable robotic help on hand, but with the guise they were using, Naya pointed out that it wouldn’t be such a good idea to pawn all the heavy lifting onto “their daughter”. Yeah, this was fucking weird as hell. At least the bag wasn’t too heavy. It was just the few nights worth of clothing that had been packed in a rush with a smaller bag full of toiletries. He’d need to shave soon. He hadn’t been able to shave in two days. His face itched and felt weird and seeing all the silver coming through just reminded him that he wasn’t a spring chicken anymore.

They seated themselves once settled in, he and Naya sitting beside one another with the Cyborg and their bags in the seat across from them.  He pulled out his cell phone and browsed thro ugh a few sites to see if there was anything of interest. Not a damned thing. He could feel Naya’s stare as he closed the browser windows and pulled up the video of Noodle .  He replayed the video several times, his expression unreadable. Perhaps it was for the best she was wherever she was and appeared to be happy. The brief glimpse of her before she went diving into the surf revealed a massive toothy smile as she said something in Japanese to someone out of frame. He was elated that she had survived the attack on Plastic Beach, but couldn’t shake the feelings of self loathing that trickled through him.  He’d abandoned them all in his rush to save his own arse. Part of him felt he didn’t even have a right to know about them. They were living their lives now and appeared to be doing just fine without him there to fuck things up.  He closed the video out with a sigh and looked out at the vast expanse of ocean. The ferry would be moving along soon and he might as well get comfortable since it would be a few hour trip.

This was probably the longest time he’d spent with a woman since he was a teenager. As much as it pained him to admit it, he actually enjoyed  Naya’s company. Sure, she was being paid to keep his arse in line and alive, but after spending so long just mucking about on his own, it was rather nice having someone there to talk to other than himself, the cat or even the Cyborg.  He still was wrapping his brain around the fact that she was some kind of covert mercenary or whatever they were called nowadays. Wouldn’t know it looking at her now with her sun hat, heart-shaped shades and gaudy outfit. As part of the guise, she had insisted they get to know one another better.  He hadn’t exactly been on board with this, suggesting that maybe it would be better if they just made something up. Nope, not how it was going to work. Naya pointed out that it had to sound believable and this meant revealing real life information. 

H e’d incorrectly assumed she had grown up in some cesspool like he had. How else would she have come across the kind of work she did? Couldn’t have been the farthest thing from the truth. S he’d had one of those perfect little American Dream childhoods  and this had honestly surprised him . Her parents were from South Africa and had moved to the United States shortly after they’d married. Her mother, though very light skinned with light hair, was actually biracial and had grown up demonized by her community and had faced further persecution for marrying Naya’s father. Naya had been born a few years upon their arrival in the states and she’d had a pretty idealistic childhood. Little house with a fence yard and little dog.  She had attended a private school and graduated with honors. Attended a very prestigious college and again had graduated with high marks. She had served four years in the military before being approached for her current line of work and had been doing it ever since. Not even her parents had known what she really did. Her mother had passed from cancer several years ago and she still visited her father when she could, but hadn’t seen him in almost a year. He honestly had found all of this quite fascinating.  Such a normal upbringing and life only to become some sort of lone agent working for whoever could pay for her services.  And here she was, now being paid to be his fucking handler! 

When she urged him to open up a bit, he’d clammed up. She’d read up on him so surely she was aware of the basics. And he’d told her how he lost the sight in his left eye, so she had to know  his childhood hadn’t been stellar. Of course, she continued to push until he finally relented. He told her about the various abuses he’d faced with his father and older brother. He held up his hands and gestured at his right pinky finger, which was turned and bowed inward, talking about how his brother had broken it when he was around thirteen. He’d gone through  numerous broken bones and even pointed out that he only had maybe twenty percent hearing in his left ear from being pu nched in the head a few too many times .  He’d run away from his father’s home when he was around fifteen and did whatever was necessary to survive. He didn’t elaborate on what he’d done, simply pointing out that when you haven’t eaten for three or four days, you’re willing to do  _ anything _ .  Bringing all these things up brought a bitter taste in the back of his throat because he had rarely ever spoken about them and aside from a now long abandoned therapist, only a few other people knew about these things.  He glanced over at her, seeing  only a sad smile on her face . She probably was thinking she’d bitten off more than she could chew dragging this hot mess around. He was a hot mess and he knew this. His former band mates had known this. Everyone who knew him to some degree knew he was a fucking mess.  It was part of the reason he spent most of his waking moments high, drunk or lost in a piece of arse. Easier that way than get stuck with his thoughts. 

The ferry cruised along, the two of them  falling quiet as they took in the sights. It allowed him to let his thoughts wander and try to forget that they had some mad Russian bitch hunting him down.  He wanted a cigarette desperately but there was no smoking on the ferry. Should have gotten a smoke in before they’d boarded. Naya commented about wanting to smoke a bowl once they got to dry land and he was actually down for that too. Honestly, he wanted to locate some grade A whizz but without knowing anyone outside of Hilo, knew this would be a near-impossible thing to find. He glanced over at some of the other passengers, taking note of the ones with kids. Could easily nick a bag from any one of them and find a bottle of Ritalin or even Adderall. Kids were prescribed that shit like candy these days. 

“ You okay over there?” she asked finally. “You’ve been pretty quiet.”

“As okay as one can be,” he muttered, still staring out the windows. “I need a smoke, need a line...need a drink. Not a fan of being sober. It’s not very pleasant.”

“Can’t drown yourself in substances your entire life.”

“Oh yes I can,” he said through a bitter laugh. “How do you think I managed this long without falling apart?”  Did he have his flask anywhere? Had he packed it? He glanced over at the luggage piled over by the Cyborg. Could go through the bags and see if he had it. 

Sighing, Naya dug through her pocket, pulling a small bag out. It took him a long moment to realize she had a small bag of coke. He opened his mouth to point out that she’d chastised him for a day and a half over using that shit but she spoke up before he could  utter a word out . “I got this to help you get through the worst of any withdrawals. I was hoping we wouldn’t need to use it.” She slapped the baggie into his hand. “Take a hit or two to take the edge off and give me back the baggie.”

“ Oh sweet Lucifer, I love you!” he cackled happily, opening up the bag with shaking hands. Though he could feel her eyes on him, he bent low to avoid catching looks from anyone else. Using the crooked pinky, he managed to get a few short hits from the baggie before reluctantly handing it back to her. Might as well cooperate because she’d be more apt to let him indulge.

She raised an eyebrow as she tucked the baggie back into her pocket. “You know that shit’ll kill you, right?”

“Save the sermon,” he said as he leaned his head back into the headrest. “I know how to handle my drugs, doll. I spent most of my time on Plastic Beach mixing Rohypnol and booze  and before that I was shooting speed up damned near every bloody day . A few bumps or lines of coke are nothing.”  He was starting to feel more himself again and this made him utter a sigh of contentment, trying to ignore the stern look Naya was giving him.  He could still feel her stare even as his mind started to soar.  Casting a side glance at her, a small smile spread across his face. “Impressed?”

The stern look melted as she let out a snorting laugh and shook her head. “Impressed you’re still alive.”  She continued to shake her head as she grabbed a magazine and started to flip through it casually. At least she wasn’t breaking his balls about it like Noodle and Russ used to.

“ Well, I’m full of surprises,” he muttered as he looked around for something to read. It was a nice little pick-me-up, there was no doubt about that. He savored the fleeting feelings as every part of him tingled and his brain started picking up speed. Shame he didn’t think to grab any books to read. He’d been in the middle of a nice read before losing his home and most of the belongings he’d acquired, which had included his vinyls once again.  He sifted through some of the magazine options, wrinkling his nose at the numerous issues of tabloid rags sprinkled with the occasional  _ Better Homes and Gardens _ . “Fuck, aren’t there any decent things to read on this dinghy?”

Naya surfaced from her magazine and stood up to rummage through one of the bags beside Cyborg. He watched with raised eyebrows as she pulled a couple of well worn paperbacks from her bag. “Hope you like Stephen King.”

Taking one of the books from her, he peered at the title. It was one of King’s older books, one he’d read a few times as a young man .  He’d enjoyed  _ The Dark Half _ , if memory served him correctly . It was certainly better than the six month old issues of  _ People _ , _ Us _ and  _ In Touch _ or the decade old  _ Better Homes and Gardens _ .  He nodded his thanks and opened up the book, a comfortable silence lingering between them as the ferry continued to chug through the Pacific.  He could probably breeze through a few chapters easily. Hell, he most likely would have half the book finished by the time they arrived at the ferry port over near Honolulu.  His eyes scanned over the pages, the words not quite sticking and blurring. Fuck, he needed his glasses. Did he pack his glasses? Probably not. Uttering a few grumbles, he closed the book and grabbed one of the tabloids. At least he could look at the fucking pictures, right?

The rest of the ferry ride was mostly uneventful. Murdoc did find himself mostly fidgety and bored, looking for things to toy with once he lost interest in the magazines and the book.  The urge for a cigarette – or six – nagged at him and he could barely contain himself once the ferry reached the port and everyone started disembarking. Though Naya barked at him to grab some of the bags, he had ignored her and rushed through the thick of people onto dry land. Pulling his battered pack out, he lit one and took a few hard drags, the sigh escaping from him sounding orgasmic. A few people leaving the ferry gave him some hard side eye, but otherwise were caught up in their own adventures.  Eventually he spotted Naya and the Cyborg coming through with their arms laden with luggage and Naya giving him the stink eye. Cracking a toothy smile, he finished his cigarette and strolled up along side them, taking some of the bags. “Where to now, boss?” he asked with a chuckle.

“ Go and hail a taxi cab, asshole,” Naya grumbled as they moved as one towards the carpool pick lanes. “Next time, maybe consider grabbing a fucking bag!” 

He managed to squeeze in another cigarette as they tried to flag down a taxi. The Cyborg merely stood there with the two bags it carried, waiting for further instruction. It didn’t take too long to finally snag a cab and they loaded up the luggage and climbed into the backseat. Naya gave the driver instructions to the resort and soon they were on the strip of highway that would lead them to the beach resort. Naya rummaged through one of the bags, pulling out a stack of cash. He stared with wide eyes as she counted out the money and passed it to him. It took him a long moment to realize there was about five hundred cash in his hands. “What’s this for? Putting me on an allowance?”

“No, it’s the cash I took from you the first night we met,” she said in a low voice. “Kept meaning to give this back but then Medusa and her group happened...had more important things to deal with.”

He’d completely forgotten about the cash she’d nicked from him. Smiling, he tucked the cash into his wallet. The driver chatted with them happily, completely oblivious to the fact that neither of them were really acknowledging him. Murdoc grunted now and again to give the impression he was listening and Naya mainly just browsed through her cell phone.  The drive was pretty fucking mundane and Murdoc  tried to focus on the sights around him as they traveled towards their destination. He hadn’t been to these parts of the islands and kind of regretted never doing so until now. He could have had a blast over here. Resorts stood out left and right, the highway full of cars that he soon identified as mostly rentals. This island must have been the fucking tourist mecca of the entire Hawaiian islands. 

Naya looked up from her phone, a small smile spreading across her face when the taxi veered off a highway exit towards a massive resort that rested right on the beach. “We’re here!” She started to gather the things she’d brought with her inside the cab as Murdoc peered up at the multi-story beach resort. It was certainly impressive. Massive, probably taking up several acres. Naya shoved things into the bag, zipping it up quickly as the cab pulled up to the main entrance.

Climbing out of the cab, he continued to look around. Given the size and luxury of the place, he assumed it wasn’t cheap. “How long we planning on staying here?” he asked as he helped her get their luggage from the boot of the cab.

“I booked for a week,” she said with a shrug. “Also put down a deposit if we need to extend it another week after that. It’s heavily populated and very public so there is hope we can blend in for a while and throw them off our trail.”

He grunted an acknowledgment of this as he shouldered two bags and grabbed another. He paid the cab driver as Naya and the Cyborg waltzed through the main entrance and he could feel the blast of the air conditioner, goosebumps erupted across his bare arms and legs. Strolling through the automatic doors and feeling the rush of cool air, he pulled the sunglasses away and tucked them into the shirt pocket. Naya appeared to have the whole front desk thing under control as she verified their reservation and got them checked in. He noted some bellhops lingering in the wings, waiting for when they would be needed. Able to take in the interior, he could admit he was pretty impressed. Spacious with high ceilings and fancy mouldings, gold trimmed chandeliers and the usual generic paintings that he saw in just about every hotel known to man. Hopefully the room was decent. What if she booked an economy suite? Could they change it up to one of the penthouse rooms?

“Let’s go, honey!” she barked suddenly, breaking through his wandering thoughts. He turned towards her with a raised eyebrow, catching sight of her smirk as she and the Cyborg started to walk towards the lift.

“Yes dear,” he cackled, jogging across the lobby to catch up with them. She hadn’t gotten the bellhops to help and he wondered if it was because of the cash and weapons that she had stowed in one of the bags.  He hummed to himself as the lift carried them skyward and he watched as the floors flickered by on the little digital screen before stopping finally on what he could only assume was one of the uppermost floors. They trickled out as one, Naya leading the way with the key card in hand before finally stopping just outside one of the doors at the end of the hallway.

The room was massive. Fucking massive. They walked inside, Murdoc spotting a kitchen to his direct right that opened up to a small dining area and lounge. This room was probably almost as big as the condo. Thank the gods the woman knew he liked his luxury! To their left of the lounge was a bathroom and then a spacious bedroom with a great view of the ocean. Naya dropped the bags onto the dining table, watching as he explored the luxury unit like an eager little kid. He could hear her laugh behind him when he stepped into the bathroom and uttered a noise at the massive tiled shower with multiple shower heads and even a spacious jacuzzi bathtub. “I knew you’d want some level of your usual creature comforts,” she laughed from the lounge. “Just an FYI, dude, you’re gonna be ponying up for half the cost. I expect a few grand from you by the time we’re checking out of this place.”

“Fair enough,” he mumbled as he stepped out of the bathroom. Definitely no worries about that. Going halvesies worked best. She may have been hired to keep him out of trouble, but this shouldn’t mean paying his way through whatever adventure they might be on. Laying low in this place worked just peachy for him. Maybe treat her to a nice dinner tonight or tomorrow. He owed her that much. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Though he was conscious of the plush comforter and pillows beneath him and Naya’s soft touch on his back, he couldn’t escape the fleeting memories of another time he’d been in a position of such vulnerability. He’d done a bit more coke when she’d stepped out to get something for them to drink and had been flying high and in great spirits upon her return. Wanting desperately to touch and be touched, it hadn’t taken long for them to be on the soft and cushiony bed with its thick down comforter and pillows. He wasn’t always interested in being the aggressor in bed, sometimes just wanting the softness of a tender touch. They’d rolled around on the bed a bit, tossing clothing away in their wake, Naya grinding against him in a way that had him moaning and stammering in her ear. He’d been so fired up and aroused that he gladly agreed to whatever she suggested, finding himself on his stomach as she caressed and kissed his skin, working her way downward. He happily purred against the touch, even welcoming the feel of something warm and wet across the crevice of his arse followed by her gentle fingers  and the muffled click of a bottle being closed . 

Then something larger than her fingers pressed against him and he’d opened his eyes in surprise. He’d rolled enough to get a look at her, realizing she had one of those peculiar vibes he’d heard about but had never actually seen. Part of it already inside her with the other part jutting outward from her body. It allowed the person using it to essentially fuck someone else with it. He hadn’t been sure what his thoughts were in the matter, but with her soft touch and whispers of making him feel good, he’d finally relented. She was careful and gentle, almost purring in his ear as he groaned against her pressure of her fingers. When the toy finally came into play, he was practically putty in her hands, eager to do whatever if it meant it felt good. The pressure took him by surprise at first, but it didn’t take long to be moaning as she pressed her body against him from behind. He could only assume it felt good on her end because  even she  was moaning as she thrust her hips against him, driving the toy further inside of him. 

Pressed between her body and the bed, he clawed at the comforter as the toy went deeper with each thrust of her hips, her moans now rising in the room. He wanted to enjoy it. Oh, it felt fucking wonderful and every part of him tingled as the toy went deeper and deeper. Her movements became quicker, the toy now moving effortlessly into his body and he could feel her lips on his neck and shoulders. Rolling her hips against his rump, her movements and pace now quicker and harder. Pounding the toy into him, her arms hooked around him as she used the leverage to pull him into her,  one hand now clutching at the short hair on the back of his head and gripping down hard . Through the buzzing of his thoughts, the memories flickered, remembering another time and another place. Sixteen, maybe seventeen years old and pressed between a filthy hotel bed and a sweating grunting body as he was pummeled from behind. Remembering the filthy prison cell i n Mexico, wide awake  and terrified, tucked in the corner of the cell because he’d been attacked several times and had found himself on guard and unable to sleep for days out of fear of another attack. 

“No,” he groaned, feeling her press the toy into him again. “No...please....stop... _ STOP _ !” Panic ripped through him as he pushed himself onto all fours and nearly threw her off of him.  She said nothing, though it was clear she was a bit surprised at his reaction. She removed the toy and shut it off, setting it aside as she reached out and touched his shoulder. He sat up, shaking his head and struggling against the emotions that continued to rise and threaten tears. He was shaking, still too high to really think straight as the memories continued to invade his consciousness. Every part of him reacted to the feel of her hand on him and her closeness,  instinctively repulsed by it , wanting desperately to push her away. Taking a deep breath, he scrubbed his hands across his face, struggling to regain his composure. She looked confused and even a bit hurt and he wasn’t sure how to explain. It had felt fucking awesome, but he’d never been  completely on board with being on the receiving end. E very time he had,  it  had been mostly against his will or out of sheer necessity to survive. “Sorry,” he said finally, covering her hand with his. “ I’m not used to being on the other end of things.”

Naya scooted closer, her hand still on his shoulder  as she pulled him against her. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do that. I just thought it might be interesting...”  She wasn’t wrong. It certainly could make things interesting if it didn’t trigger such feelings of panic. She dropped her hand away and laid down into the bed, gesturing for him to follow. “We can do whatever you want. If you want to trade places, I’m game.”

Murdoc eased himself back into the bed, a small sigh of contentment escaping from him as he relaxed into the softness of the bed. Naya rested a head on his shoulder, tracing lazy circles across his chest and stomach. Part of him felt like the mood had been ruined but he had to remind himself that it was all in his own damaged head and she had no idea the inner demons he battled with.  He had spent most of his adult life constantly high, drunk or both in an effort to block out all the things he’d gone through or done. Though he was tempted to at least explain himself, he didn’t need her thinking she had to handle him with kid gloves and certainly did not need or want her sympathy. She was being paid to give a damn and on board with no strings attached sex. Couldn’t ask for a better thing. So they encountered a small hiccup. Shit happens. He wanted to enjoy this stay at the resort and if it meant hiding out in the penthouse room fucking his brains out, then he needed to get his head back in the game. She was still flushed and wanting something and h e was still half hard.  There was a good chance her mouth or hands could get him fully erect in no time . Could simply stroke himself off and let her watch. Maybe apply some teasing touches to her and watch her squirm.  The more he pictured this, the warmer he felt. Rile each other up. Just work on their own bodies and nothing else. 

“Touch yourself,” he grunted, reaching his hand down and massaging his cock. “I wanna see you touch yourself.”  When she reached a hand down and pressed her fingers between her thighs, a lewd smile spread across his face.  Watching her writhe and moan against her hands did wonders for his own libido and after a few firm strokes of his hand, he was fully erect. Oh, his hand felt good but watching her buck and moan against her own touch just made him want to bury himself into her. “Roll over,” he whispered hoarsely. “I want your back to me.” As soon as she rolled with her back to him, he pressed himself close, still stroking himself slowly and flexing his hips to the tip reached her arse. She apparently knew exactly what he was thinking, passing him the small bottle of lube she’d been using for that weird toy. He applied some to his hand and massaged his cock to get it completely covered. He applied his wet fingers to the crevice of her arse, sighing against her neck as he continued to pump into his hand. “Keep touching yourself.”  She shifted her rump, a sigh escaping from her as he pressed his cock against her arse, easing himself in. She flexed her hips as she continued to apply her own touches with her hands, moaning as he slid inside. He kept himself propped up on his elbow, bring his free hand up to smooth away her hair, flexing into her slowly and keeping in pace with her movements. 

He honestly didn’t have to really move because she was essentially riding his cock while fingering herself and holy fuck was his brain going into overdrive watching this. He smoothed his palms across her body, tweaking an erect nipple that was just a bit too far away from him to use his mouth.  She reached an arm around, clutching at the back of his neck. He started to thrust into her, dragging his free hand down to the soft heat of her sex, carefully toying with her most sensitive part. He was buried to the hilt inside of her, grinding himself against her as he continued to toy with her clit. “More,” she moaned, pressing her arse against him. “I need more.” She was on the edge of climax, sputtering as she continued to press her arse against him, pushing his cock into her as deep as it could go. 

He pulled his hand away and rolled her onto her stomach, still buried in her. He spread his legs to straddle her thighs in an effort to give himself more leverage, holding his upper body up on his hands as he started to press and roll his hips against her. “You like it this deep?” he purred into her ear. “You like feeling my cock buried in your arse?” Hearing her moan in response sent his synapses into a tailspin. Oh, she was loving this and it wasn’t often you encountered a woman who not only could take it up the arse, but wanted it deep and hard. Quite a few had expressed reluctance due to his size. Having a decent sized cock for a man of his stature was great most of the time but he’d encountered drawbacks here and there. Not Naya. No, she was still pumping her hips to meet his thrusts, long and desperate moans escaping from her as they braced their bodies hard to each other before he pulled away to thrust again. The best part being that he wasn’t even close to cumming yet and he could savor every moment of it all, watching her moan and writhe beneath him. “I wanna hear you tell me how much you love it,” he growled against her neck, pressing himself hard into her. He remained braced against her, a groan escaping from him as she flexed around him. “C’mon, Naya, talk to me...tell me how much you love it and want it.”

She uttered a gasp as he pulled his hips back and started slowly pumping against her. Her hands were white-knuckled on the bedding, her eyes glazed and half mast. Words of desire sputtering from her lips as she tried to move her body to meet his. “More, Murdoc...I need more.” Holy Christ, if only she knew  what it did to his ego to hear his name come from her lips. He quickened his pace, driving into her hard as she continued to moan and cry out from the blankets. “Oh god...,” she panted, squeezing her eyes shut. “Oh fuck...oh fuck...Harder, Murdoc, harder.” His resolve was finally slipping, now focused on his own good feelings as he went hard and fast, panting against her neck as the static in his brain took over, now solely focused on the bliss that was mere moments away. She cried out again, almost shrieking his name and everything faded out of his consciousness as the moment hit, riding out the bliss that rippled through his entire body as he finished hard.

Gasping, he sank down atop her back, feeling her body ride through its own climax, flexing around him frantically as she whimpered beneath him and shuddered hard. His arms felt like jello and it took every effort on his part to will himself to move. Disengaging from her body, he rolled to the side and lay there for a long moment as the feeling came back to his body.  He allowed himself to drift comfortably and bask in the afterglow, his gaze on the ceiling fan above them. Naya didn’t move from her place face-down on the bed and he rolled his head over to look at her, reaching a weak and rubbery arm out. “You alive over there, love?” he asked in a hoarse whisper, resting his hand on her lower back.

Naya raised her head, her eyes still glazed over as she peered over at him. “If this is what I have to look forward to while we’re here...I may keep you around even after they quit paying me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Though it was now after dark, it was still quite warm and humid. Murdoc sat the restaurant table, toying with his glass of water as he waited for the waiter to return with the drink list and menu.  It was an open deck floor-plan so the warm salt water breeze drifted through from time to time.  The Cyborg had been left up in the room with a Do Not Disturb placard hanging from the door-knob.  He figured this was probably the best avenue to avoid housekeeping stumbling in and getting flung from a ten story window. As horrific as it sounded, the mental image of some lady flailing through the sky brought a weird smirk and giggle from him. Though he felt sticky and sweaty, he was feeling pretty damned good. It had been a rather accomplished first day at the resort. He and Naya had  spent a lot of time up in the room  when they’d first arrived  and had even successfully irritated the neighbors enough for them to pound on the wall where the bed was. Was it their fault the walls were thin enough for the poor saps next door  to hear them banging all over the room? How about that evil eye poor Mommie Dearest kept shooting at him in the halls as she tried to usher her crotch goblins into their room! 

Since most of the resort folks were on the beach and taking the train around, they’d discovered they had one of the pools mostly to themselves. Naya had purchased some floaties from the gift shop and they even had drink holders. Far out! They got to spend the afternoon floating lazily in the pool on the floats with their straw sun hats, shades and swim wear with some good strong drinks in their hand.  Naya had even brought her satchel along for the ride and they toked up a bit before the staff finally came out, barking at them to take the pot smoking elsewhere. All in all, the day had been a blast. Murdoc honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun. He hadn’t even asked about the blow she had stashed somewhere.  It crossed his mind to hunt for it once or twice, but they’d been so caught up in just bullshitting around the resort that it was soon forgotten.

He spotted Naya across the restaurant just as she was coming through the main entrance. They were probably obscenely under-dressed for the joint but he didn’t give a toss. He was dressed comfortably in a pair of plain cotton trousers and shirt, Naya looking equally as comfortable in a pair of plain shorts and t-shirt.  Her legs were long and lean and he found himself staring hard as she walked up to the table where he was sitting. Oi, manners, you horny old sod. Jumping to his feet, he cracked a toothy smile at her as she claimed the seat across from him. “Waiter is coming with the menus,” he said as he took his seat. “Wasn’t sure what you wanted so figured it was just best to wait until you got here.”

The waiter showed up shortly after she got seated, plastic smile on his face. Classy joint like this probably had some decent enough booze on hand. Murdoc browsed through the drink menu, catching sight of a high end spiced rum. Naya ordered a her drink, a vodka with a splash of cranberry juice and he ordered a plain rum with ice. Keep things simple.  The waiter darted off to get their drink orders, leaving them there to skim through the menus.  Everything looked quite good and he hadn’t realized how fucking hungry he was until he caught wind of someone’s dish floating by with another waiter. Whatever they were having smelled fucking delicious. “Christ, I can’t make up me mind,” he grumbled. “What are you having?”

Naya perked her head up. “Dunno yet. Stuff is pretty pricey...”

“I told you earlier I was buying, love,” he said without looking up from the menu. “Reckon you could probably afford it either way, but I owe you that much for keeping my arse safe.” Most of the menu appeared to be seafood dishes and he wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted that or not. Swordfish could be good if prepared right. “I’m thinking I may go for the swordfish.”

“Oysters,” she said with a smirk. “Given the amount of energy you have...oysters.”

“You clearly didn’t read up on me well enough,” he chuckled, wrinkling his nose. “No thank you on the oysters. Despise the gooey and disgusting little bastards.”

She flashed another smile, her eyes still looking through the menu. “I need some meat. The grilled T-bone is looking pretty good...”

“Christ, I gave you meat three times already, woman! You’re insatiable!” A few other patrons were now looking at them and looked less than pleased. Whatever, fuck ‘em. They were going to take full advantage of this place and the luxuries offered. For what they were paying, this place had better be ready to kiss their perky arses! It really wasn’t a bad joint. He was in good company and felt at ease and comfortable. Could even go for a cigarette too but all he saw around him were gobs of _Thank You For Not Smoking_ signs. Blasted nanny state bullshit. He missed the days he could smoke anywhere he pleased.

“ We should go to the bar later,” she suggested, closing the menu.  He perked his head up at the sound of her voice, catching sight of the waiter heading towards them with their  drinks.  They got their food orders out of the way before the waiter departed, leaving them alone once again . Naya swirled around her drink, eyes surfacing and meeting his.  “What’re your thoughts on a  _ menage a trois _ ?” 

“The more, the merrier!” he said through a snorting laugh.  Welly, well, well, this was a pleasant fucking surprise. He may need another bump or two later in the evening but he was down with whatever at this point. Taking a drink from the rum, he pursed his lips at the burn. This was good. Fucking delicious. And she was still looking at him in a way that was sending all sorts of good feelings down south, as well as bloodflow and some IQ points.  “ So...w hat’s on the menu  then ? Bird or bloke?” 

“ Whatever you want it to be,” she purred softly, almost unheard by him. “Of course, it would be nice to be pressed between two men...or watch you with one.”

“Holy fuck, you’re kidding?” he gasped. Didn’t women usually have a preference? Hell, not  many women were on board with a threesome – at least none that he’d encountered. Splendid images ran through his mind of her softness pressed between him and some faceless bloke. He’d never had another man involved while with a woman and the idea certainly was tempting. She’d probably love it, getting fucked by two men at once. Was it possible? He’d seen enough porn indicating it was possible, but also knew that shit rarely held up to reality. Fucking hell, he could barely think.

“ I didn’t blow out a circuit, did I?” she laughed through her drink. “You look like you’re about to cum in your pants.”

He exhaled loudly, swirling the ice in his drink. “Satan’s balls...I think I did.” Couldn’t deny the prospect was exciting. The two of them finding some horny little bastard looking for a night of fun. Would the bar have someone interested? It was a holiday resort and full of families. Wouldn’t that be a kicker, finding some bloke willing to take them both for a spin and finding out he had a little woman and litter of kidlets back in his hotel room! The drama alone from that would be more than entertaining to watch. Oooh, and imagine just how upset their neighbors would be. Think the afternoon was bad, wait until they get a third participant. 

Naya nursed her drink, gazing out into the darkness. He followed her gaze, realizing that with the clear skies and half moon, the surf was visible even from where they sat.  She was definitely an interesting creature. He still couldn’t understand how she came into this field given her rather cushy upper middle class background. How does a daughter of immigrants, who was raised completely immersed in the so-called American Dream, end up becoming some kind of mercenary type? She’d even served several years in the military and that had led to the next career change. She must have been a good shot or whatever it was they looked for. She blinked, sensing his stare, slowly turning towards him. “You’re staring, dude. It’s uncomfortable.”

“Err...sorry.” He drained what remained of his drink, setting the empty glass aside. “Just trying to figure you out. I always thought mercenaries were a bit rough around the edges and whatnot...Medusa – could be pegged as a mercenary. You? No way. It still doesn’t seem possible.”

“That’s what they like about me,” she said with a smile, dropping her voice to a whisper. “I can blend in, can get close and still slice your throat before you even knew what happened.”  She fell silent when the waiter appeared with their food, thanking him as the plates were set before them. Murdoc dived into his plate, his stomach sounding off as son as the smells of their food hit his nostrils. Naya simply cut small bites from the steak she’d ordered, taking a few bites before she continued. “It wasn’t always  _ removing problems _ , though, I hope you know that. Sometimes it was helping smuggling families out of war torn areas. Sometimes I had to move special weaponry to keep enemy lines from getting their hands on them. I told you, Murdoc, I was a jack of all trades, really.”

“Still...” Murdoc took a bite of the swordfish, chewing slowly and savoring the lemon pepper seasoning. “I would expect someone a bit more hard edged. More jaded. You’re fun. You’re down with having fun. Unless this is all a guise to keep me on a short leash?”

“Well, I do need to keep you in check, man,” she laughed. “But no, it’s not a guise. Out of all the jobs I’ve been contracted to do, I can admit this is probably one of the better ones...It’s nice being able to chill and let my hair down a bit.”

“ Of course it’s nice!” He took another bite of his food, chewing slowly. “Gotta enjoy all the things life has to offer, Naya. Even when I was touring with the band, I always made sure I found time for personal enjoyments...whether it was a line of coke, some speed, top notch booze or a piece of arse.”

“It’s really not that easy for me, dude,” she said with a smirk. “Especially with my line of work. I  can’t just drop everything to go do some blow or whatever and fuck at random.”

“Coulda fooled me,” he chuckled through a bite of food. “You fucked me....you’re _still_ fucking me.”

“I told you...you’re interesting,” she said with a broad smile, “and I like interesting. Besides, man, it’s not like it’s some grand romance. We’re just hooking up and making the best of the time together while I get you to where you need to be.”

“It’s my devilish good looks,” he cackled with a mouth full of food.

The rest of the meal was mostly in silence. Murdoc had ordered them a few more drinks, now full and content. Naya devoured the entire T-bone and that steak had been massive in size. As hungry as Murdoc had been, he didn’t think even he could eat that thing in its entirety.  There was some brief discussion over their game plan for when they arrived at the bar at the other side of the resort. Given the crowded state of the restaurant, there was little doubt the bar would be just as crowded. They didn’t want to draw too much attention to themselves, just enough to get a single person’s attention and see if they were down with what they had to offer. Murdoc had to keep adjusting himself, trying to be discreet about it and probably failing miserably. They were really going to do this. A whole different kind of hunt. He could recall those times he’d managed to snag a pair of birds from backstage for some fun in the dressing room, but those had been groupies and they fucked indiscriminately. So eager for their fifteen minutes with him, they would do anything he asked of them. This would be something entirely different. It would require using skills he hadn’t had to use in years. He’d relied on his fame and notoriety for so long that having to rely on his pick up skills could be hit or miss. But at least he had a partner in this hunt. Weasel themselves in, get the target to let their guard down a bit and see if they were adventurous enough to take them both on.  Really give the poor sap a holiday to remember.


	8. Troublemakers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: LOADS OF SEX, REFERENCED THREESOME, CHEATING

Murdoc smoked his cigarette in silence, sitting up and propped by the pillows of the bed. Snoring away softly beside him was Naya and to her back was a rather fine model of the male species. He twisted his neck a bit, trying to work out stiffened muscles, finally slipping from the bed and heading to the bathroom to piss and shower. It was still pretty early in the morning. He’d only slept about five hours and reminded himself to make some coffee after he showered. They’d have to rouse their companion and send him on his merry way. Hopefully the bloke wasn’t pining for a repeat performance or sticking around with them the entire time because he wasn’t interested in entertaining a fifth wheel. They’d gotten their fill and it would be time to shove off once the man awoke. At least Murdoc wasn’t shaking his arse awake now and dragging him to the door.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, pausing long enough to look himself over. Naked, covered with small scratches, blooming bruises and what he thought might be a bite mark on one of his arse cheeks. They’d really gone all out, hadn’t they? Were these marks from Naya, the bloke or both? He couldn’t quite remember because he’d been too caught up in it all. The other thing that caught his attention was the fact that the massive jacuzzi bathtub was still half full of water. He frowned, staring at this as he emptied his bladder. They’d dragged their plaything into the tub with them and then had moved to the bed. He could have sworn he’d drained the tub. No matter. He cracked a massive yawn and braced an arm into the wall as he continued to drain his bladder. Christ, should have gone to the toilet when I first woke up. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there and it felt like he’d been urinating for a millennia by the time he finally finished. Not bothering to flush, he veered towards the tiled shower stall with the multiple shower heads. This would be fucking stellar. He’d had a similar shower back at the old Plastic Beach and had really fucking missed it.

Standing beneath the dual streams, he sighed with contentment. They’d actually had a great time last night. He and Naya had strolled into the bar arm in arm, laughing and bullshitting with one another as they looked for a table that gave them the best vantage point of the establishment. Loads of couples out on what he assumed was a date night, but there’d also been a fair amount of single people mingling about. A few people looked in their direction, probably wondering how a weird looking fucker like him had managed to snag such a gorgeous chick. He had been feeling pretty great. He’d gotten his hands on the last of the blow and got a few lines out of the way before they’d gone to the bar so once settled at the table with a drink, he was already focusing on seeking a target. Naya had remained casual about it. She had loaded a bowl and toked up in the bathroom before they’d left their room so both of them were in their comfort zones.

Their target had presented himself almost immediately. Stepping into the bar alone, looking a bit uncomfortable and seeming a little put off at the couples that swamped the bar. Naya had smiled as soon as she’d seen him, nodding her head as the man seated himself at the bar counter. Naya’s age, maybe a little younger, with sharp features and shaggy brown hair. He wasn’t bad looking. They’d both approached him, flanking each side and claiming a barstool. He’d told them his name, but for life of him, Murdoc couldn’t remember what it was. After a few well place remarks and innuendos, they had the man at their table as they talked about their stay at the resort and what they were looking for. Murdoc could even admit feeling his hackles go up a bit when he realized the man was mostly focused on Naya. Was this jealousy or was he just put off that the man seemed more interested in fucking her than having a god like The Niccals in the mix? Never mind any of that, once the man had gotten a few drinks into him, they’d suggested going back to their room. Their evening companion had mentioned a new wife two floors down from them, the two of them on their honeymoon. Whatever, were they supposed to feel bad about that? He followed them back to their room knowing full and well what they were seeking.

Naya had gotten her wish last night, the man fucking her from behind while Murdoc fucked her from the front. The three of them tangled around on the bed for hours. Their companion would lay there stroking himself off while Murdoc and Naya fucked and not long after that, it would be Murdoc stroking himself while Naya and the man had their turn. At one point the man had Naya on her back as he pumped into her and Murdoc, not wanting to be completely left out, had slid up behind the man with the bottle of lube in hand as he nipped and dragged his tongue across the man’s back, sliding into him and fucking him while the companion fucked Naya. They’d bathed afterward and then resumed their exploration of one another, the man eager to get Murdoc’s cock in his mouth as Naya sucked the man off and Murdoc got to go down onto Naya. They hadn’t been quiet through any of this and Murdoc had fully expected to get the wrath of that frumpy bitch next door the next time they ran into one another in the hallway.

Murdoc grabbed the bar of soap and lathered it up. Thinking about it all again was making him hard and part of him entertained the idea of slinking back into the bed and giving one of them a grand wake up. Hmm, decisions, decisions. He stroked himself slowly, enjoying the scent of the soap and the blissful heat of the dual showerheads. One hit his back while another hit the front. Entertaining as the idea was, he just wanted to be cleaned up for another day at the resort. The poor sod in their bed also needed to get back to his room because no doubt the wifey was beside herself wondering where he’d run off to. They’d definitely need to get him out of their room soon. He continued to stroke himself, letting his mind wander back to those several hours spent tangled in bodies on the bed. Wank one out and then go get the bloke out of their bed. Seemed like a sufficient game plan.

Christ, barely over a week ago he’d been lamenting over the fact that he hadn’t gotten laid in forever and like some sort of modern day fairy godmother, Naya flitted through with her soft and full mouth, lean limbs, open mind and delicious coconut smell, bringing with her all the pleasures of the flesh that he could ever hope for or ask for. There were times he wondered if he would wake up from a dream or find out he’d been in a coma dreaming this entire thing. Wouldn’t that be a fucking kicker, eh? Find out he’d been in some twisted Murdoc Niccals version of The Wizard of Oz while in a coma while his band-mates waited him out. He chuckled to himself as he pondered over this, lathered cock still in hand. Lifting his head, he uttered a groan as the water rushed over his head and washed away the soap suds. It felt good stroking himself with the suds and figured it wouldn’t hurt to bang out a quick wank session while he was in there. Get it out of his system now so he could get some coffee and then wander downstairs to the lobby to see what kind of continental breakfast this joint had to offer.

Naya was just waking up when Murdoc stepped out of the bathroom with a towel secured around his waist. They’d both picked up some more clothing from the gift shop so he had a little more than tacky Hawaiian shirts and cargo shorts. Could wear the linen trousers with the blue linen shirt again. It was humid, but he liked the clothes because they were cool and comfortable. He knew he looked like a regular twat in them, matching up too closely with some of the aged geezers he’d seen floating around the resort, but comfort was in short supply in humidity like this unless you walked around bare arsed naked. Chances were, the staff wouldn’t appreciate him waltzing about without a stitch of clothing on.

In the end, he opted for some lightweight bermudas and a tie-dyed muscle shirt with the resort’s name streaked upon it. Naya must have picked this out for him. He would never have chosen a shirt like this. She’d probably tell him it was a good choice because the goal was to not be noticed and to blend in with the other rubes on holiday. Fair enough and at least he could remain cool. He could hear movement on the bed as he got himself dressed. Once he got himself sorted, he opened up the slider to the narrow balcony and lit himself a cigarette as he plopped himself into one of the cushioned patio chairs. Fuck, he could totally live here. Beautiful view, surrounded by beautiful people, beautiful woman to keep him occupied and well spent.

Chuckling to himself he kicked his feet up onto the table as he waited for Naya and their plaything to wake up. Movement from within the room indicated someone was up and about. He glanced over his shoulder and spotted a beautifully naked Naya strolling into the bathroom. He was alone long enough to smoke his cigarette and he debated over whether he would light another or simply just doze out on the balcony. More noises from within, the muffled and gruff sounds of confusion indicating their plaything had finally decided to wake up. “You with us, mate?” he called over his shoulder with a chuckle.

Naya emerged, wrapped in the sheet with a cigarette of her own, claiming one of the other chairs. “He’s a little discombobulated,” she said through a soft laugh. “Give him a moment.”

“He needs to get back to his room,” Murdoc said as he dropped his feet back to the ground. “I’m sure his lil’ woman is wondering where the hell he went off to.”

She nodded her head, sighing comfortably with the cigarette burning in her fingers. “Give him some time to get his head together. We gave him quite a night.” A devious smile spread across her face as she took a hard drag from the cigarette. “Got to use that neat new toy you and I tried with earlier. Man, get you high enough and horny enough and you're willing to do _anything_.”

Murdoc frowned, trying to think through the memories of last night. He remembered fucking her, fucking the bloke, the two of them fucking her, vice versa...but had he finally relented with the weird vibe thing she had? “I remember you using it on him...”

“You must have been really high then,” she said with a smirk. “After we were finished with him and he passed out, you and I got one last round in and I used it. He slept through it all and we were fucking loud, man. You were moaning and begging me to go harder while you were jacking yourself off.”

“Well Christ,” he chuckled, feeling his cheeks warm up. “Well, I reckon you caught me at a good time then.”

Naya glanced at him, the smile still on her face. “Dude, there is nothing hotter than seeing someone drop inhibitions and just enjoy it. You were fucking wild.” She let out a small sigh, relaxing into the cushions of the little balcony chair. “I’d like to see it again...”

When their evening companion started moving around more, Murdoc threw a glance over his shoulder. The man was stepping out of the room, already dressed in his now-wrinkled clothing from the night before and looking around in some confusion. Naya peered over her own shoulder and flashed her trademark brilliant smile at the man as he cautiously stepped further into the room. “Good morning, Brett! Did you sleep well?”

Brett stared at the two of them, his brow knitted in rising confusion as he hobbled through the lounge slowly, fumbling and patting at pockets. They both watched with mild amusement as Brett pulled out his wallet and sifted through it. Probably making sure they didn’t rip him off. After verifying that everything was still there, he approached them slowly and seated himself onto a chair just by the sliding door. “What floor am I on?” he asked in a soft whisper.

“Tenth floor, mate,” Murdoc said through a laugh. “Leaving so soon?”

“Yeah, I need to,” the man insisted, smiling sheepishly at them. “Clara will be wondering where I’m at.” Hmm, wonder what precious Clara will think of her brand new husband hobbling into their hotel room in rumpled clothing and reeking of sex? He was close enough to Murdoc for him to pick up both his cologne and that coconut smell that Naya seemed to have. And given the way the man was walking, Murdoc had to wonder if last night has been his first time being fucked by a man (and a woman with a wild new toy). They most likely encountered a man looking for one last night of fun before accepting his fate of being married. Wouldn’t be the first time Murdoc had run into men like this. He’d had his way with a few of them through the years. Men that claimed they were a hundred percent straight and wanting to merely _experiment_ a bit. Yeah, sorry, he didn’t buy that shit. Not one bit. If you were straight, you were straight and no amount of curiosity would tempt you to actually try to shag your gender. _Experimentation_ was nothing but a safe word used by people too fucking afraid to admit they liked both genders or all genders or whatever else existed. A word used by people too afraid to be themselves out of fear of what others would think.

He knew he wasn’t a hundred percent straight and had sort of known that since he was young, just unable to act on it willingly until he was older. The record label knew he had millions of female fans wanting their ten minutes in bed with him and had forced his hand in making a choice to keep him and the band marketable. This certainly hadn’t stop him from sampling men from time to time, but it all had to be under the cover of secrecy. Changing views on sexuality relaxed this rigid one or the other the label pushed at him, but he also had put his foot down on the matter. He liked both and would not stick with just one to make the record label or fans happy. Fans would love him whether he was gay, straight or bi and finding out he happily fucked both wouldn’t change their opinion of him. Being able to talk openly about liking both men and women during the Pirate Radio broadcasts had not only _NOT_ affected how fans saw him, it brought new fans to him.

He felt bad for men like Brett. Indulging in the great things the human body offered under the guise of experimentation. He’d probably grown up having all sorts of BS gender boxes and stereotypes shoved down his throat since he was in nappies. Though Murdoc could absolutely understand that because he’d grown up with similar toxicity, it didn’t change the fact that at some point you had to buck the system and be yourself. Life was so much better that way.

They continued to smirk at the man as he slowly got to his feet and made his way towards the door, thanking them for an interesting night before finally departing and leaving them alone. Unable to help himself, Murdoc erupted into a barking laugh as he lit himself another cigarette. “Poor sod. His lil’ woman isn’t gonna be very happy with him.”

“We didn’t twist his arm,” Naya said with a dismissive shrug. “He came along with us willingly.” She got to her feet and went back into the hotel suite. After a few moments of silence, Murdoc could hear the sounds of the shower running. It did cross his mind to go and join her in the shower. He continued to consider this as the minutes passed, finally realizing he wouldn’t be able to because she was shutting down the tap and getting out. Shame, should have acted sooner. Oh well, they had another long day of lounging around the suite or wandering around the resort to do fuck all.

Naya trotted back to the bedroom to change while Murdoc decided to busy himself with some more coffee and talk of heading down to snag breakfast before the lobby closed it off. “I know we can easily just hit up the restaurant again, but I figure we’re paying enough to stay here so might as well take advantage of the free breakfast,” he said in a matter of fact tone, leaning against the counters with his mug of coffee.

“Some fruit and oatmeal sound good,” she called from the bedroom. “Maybe they have waffles?”

“Makes no difference to me what they have. I just need something solid in my stomach.” She stepped out of the room in flowing yellow sundress of some kind that hugged her in all the right ways with her hair long and loose across her shoulders and back. Murdoc found himself momentarily at a loss of words as she moved around him to get her own cup of coffee prepared. How was it she could wear fucking anything and look like a fucking model? It was gauzy and layered around her, sheer enough to just see her bra and the thong she was wearing underneath it. Christ, a thong. Growling playfully, he stepped up behind her and grabbed at her arse. “Wanna have a go on the counters?”

She swatted him away with a laugh, shaking her head. “Sorry, busy morning ahead of us. Should have taken advantage of the moment when you first woke up!”

Grinding his hips into her rump, he erupted into a good natured laugh as he grabbed his mug and stepped back. Plenty of time for that. A low rumble in his stomach told him he’d be better off fueling up first. It would stave off the headache that continued to threaten as well. They secured some things in the small safe the hotel provided and gathered what they wanted to keep on their persons while roaming the resort. While gathering whatever things she thought she might want, Naya had found the poor muppet’s wedding band tucked beneath a pillow. This got a decent enough laugh from Murdoc. It had either slid off the man’s finger during their little tangled fuck fest or he’d taken it off himself. Hard to say. He managed to get another few cigarettes in while Naya came back out onto the patio with her pipe and jar of pot, loading up and toking it up.

A knock to the hotel door caught both of their attention, heads perking up and swiveling towards the door as one. Naya got to her feet and went inside, crossing the distance to the front door. Murdoc followed a few steps behind her, pausing just behind her as she opened the door. Standing there was a young woman with a blond bob and glaring venomously at Naya. She looked Naya up and down with a sneer. “ _Really_ ? With you? He decided to ditch me on our wedding night to fuck _you_ ?” Her voice was shrill and annoying as fuck. Murdoc pressed his mouth against Naya’s shoulder to stifle the laugh that threatened. She merely stood there, staring at the gobsmacked woman standing out in the hall. When she didn’t respond, the woman shook her head in disgust. “I cannot believe Brett was willing to ignore me all last night and run off with _you_...”

“ _Excuse me_?” Naya snapped with raised eyebrows. “I’m sorry, but do I know you, little girl?”

“No, but you probably know my husband, the man you dragged back to your room last night.”

Naya let out a humorless chuckle, shaking her head. “Oh, I didn’t have to drag him back, sweet heart. He came along quite willingly.”

“Did you know he was a married man on his honeymoon?” the young woman demanded, still glaring daggers at Naya.

“Whether he was or not isn’t my concern,” Naya said with a shrug. “We’re not the ones who made the vows, now were we?”

The woman’s brow twitched in confusion. “ _We_ ? What do you mean _we_?”

Murdoc cracked a lewd smile, arm around Naya’s shoulders as he leaned into view. “Come to join us, love? Always room for one more...” He nipped at Naya’s shoulder, dragging his tongue up her neck. “Mmmm...she looks tasty, lovey....can I have her _please_?”

Naya’s face struggled not to crack as she let out a breathy sigh. “Don’t be greedy, baby,” she said in a low and husky voice. “I let you have him all to yourself last night, what if _I_ want the girl?”

“Oh my god,” the woman gasped loudly, stepping back.

Murdoc continued to lick and nibble at Naya’s neck and ear. “Sure you don’t wanna join us, doll?” he purred against Naya’s neck, his eyes still locked on the woman. “Maybe bring your delicious lil’ Brett back with you. Might be the most thrilling thing you two get in your entire existence.” There was nothing hiding the disgust in the woman’s face. The poor thing looked as if she were about to come apart at the seams. Murdoc perked his head up and turned back to the room, grabbing the wedding band that Naya had set on the counters. Returning back to the door, he reached out and gestured for the woman to hold her hand out. She did so with her brow furrowed in confusion. He dropped the ring into her hand with a sly smile. “He left that here...might need to get it back to him.” She continued to mouth soundlessly as she stepped away from their door, tears welling and falling as she struggled with what she’d just encountered. When she finally turned and started to walk quickly down the hall towards the lift, Murdoc guffawed loudly. “Don’t be a stranger, sweetie! Your husband wasn’t!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning excitement had them both pretty giggly but it could have been the obscene amount of pot Murdoc had smoked. He wasn’t sure and he really didn’t give a toss. Now he was stoned, comfortable, iced mixed drink in his hand while he floated around the pool on the floatie ring Naya had purchased the day before. He had lot track of his shades so opted to wear her heart shaped sunglasses with his sun hat and some sunscreen caked across his mangled nose. Naya was sunning herself on a lounge chair. She’d shed the yellow sundress to reveal a very skimpy thong bikini beneath it and Murdoc had spent some of the time on the floatie with his hand cupping his crotch to avoid some random kid spotting the stiffy he’d sported the moment she shed the dress. He sipped from the straw in his drink as he drifted around the pool, mostly allowing his thoughts to wander as he half dozed and half watched the people around him. He had even spotted poor Brett with his overbearing ball and chain wandering pool side before departing quickly upon seeing both him and Naya.

“If this is how we’re going to spend the next week or two, I’m fucking game, love,” he said with a smile, raising up the sunglasses to look directly at Naya. “Glad you thought of this.”

Naya sat upright and pulled her hair into a sloppy bun atop her head, rising up to her feet and sliding into the pool. “I’m glad I thought of this too. It was needed.” She waded out towards him, smiling as she took the glass from his hand and helped herself to a few sips. “I have a few phone calls to make. Can I trust you to be a good boy out here while I’m gone?”

“Hmm...dunno about that,” he chuckled, taking his drink back. “Maybe I wanna filthy you up a bit while you’re on the phone? See how long you can keep your composure while I let my tongue do all the work...”

Naya’s smile didn’t waver, but her tone was serious. “I mean it, Murdoc. Look, I’m only gonna be away twenty minutes tops, man...just stay out of trouble. I have to keep you alive, remember?”

“Bah, you’re no fun!” he pouted as he lowered the shades and resumed sucking from the straw of his drink. “Fine...abandon me, then!”

She swatted some pool water at him, scoffing as she turned and waded across to the stairs. He moved the floatie to get a better look at her as she stepped out of the pool. Always good to get a nice view of things, yeah? He rumbled to himself as his eyes focused on her arse and legs. He wasn’t going to pass up a free show. She had a great fucking arse on her. What could he say? He was an arse man. Loved how they came in all the different shapes and sizes. Naya’s arse was muscular but beautifully soft and watching it move and jiggle with her walk sent all sorts of good feelings rippling through him. Deliciously round and soft to the touch. He continued to watch even as she disappeared into the cabana. With the free show now gone, he turned his focus to his booze and the other lovely looking things that fluttered poolside. A few of them had kidlets with them and he found himself pondering over how they’d had kids when they were so thin with flat stomachs. Maybe they’d gotten a tummy tuck or something. He’d heard of birds doing that after spitting out a few crotch goblins.

“Hey, move outa my way!”

The voice was small and snotty as hell. Murdoc turned towards the voice with a grunt, spying a kid staring back at him. The boy frowned and gestured for him to move. Murdoc looked the boy over with a raised eyebrow. Dark brown hair, dark eyes hidden by half fogged goggles, olive complexion, mouth quirked into a sneer and no more than ten or eleven years old. He took a slow and casual drink from his straw, still staring the boy down. “Sorry, mate, didn’t catch that.”

The boy huffed in annoyance. “Move outa the way! You’re taking up too much room in the pool! I wanna swim!”

Murdoc shrugged dismissively and went back to sucking on the mixed drink. “I was here first.”

“And now there are kids in here and other people, so you need to move outa the way!”

“Meh...go fuck yourself, you little tampon,” he grumbled, waving the boy away.

“MOM! This old guy won’t move out of the way!” The boy turned and swam away, bellowing at the top of his lungs for whoever the unlucky cow that had birthed the blasted thing. Murdoc waited patiently, knowing some crazed Yankee bitch would come thundering through the water like an angry water buffalo to defend her little cum stain.

“Hey!” _Oh, yay, here she comes_. He hummed _Ride of the Valkyries_ as the woman ungracefully hit the pool to wade towards him. “Hey you there!” He slowly turned his head towards the grating mid Western accented voice, spying a heavy set woman with a strange cut to her bleached blond hair and most of her face hidden by a massive pair of sunglasses. Realizing she had his attention, she stopped at his feet and pointed towards the far side of the pool where her little shit was sitting. “Hey, my boy there asked you to move and you refused. Can’t you go and hang out in another pool? Your floatie-thing is taking up a lot of space in here.”

“Yeah...I think not,” he mumbled, using the tip of his tongue to pull the drink straw back to his mouth. “Perhaps you should teach the boy some manners. Talking to strangers and ordering them around.”

The woman’s face scrunched up, her mouth set in a thin line. “We’re paying customers at this resort...”

“That so?” Murdoc lifted his sunglasses, catching her face twitch at the sight of his discolored eye. “Well so am I, Shamu. I have as much right to sit in my floatie and hang out here with the rest of you unruly Yanks. Teach the lad some manners before someone else knocks them into him.”

“Excuse the hell out of me!” she barked, her face flushing with her rising agitation. “How about you take that ridiculous float and get the hell out of the pool before I have security make you take it out! There are families with kids here who would like to use the pool and you can’t just hang out in there and take up so much space!”

Murdoc looked around with raised eyebrows. The only ones who appeared to have a problem with him were the cum stain and this fat bitch. He was tucked away in a far corner and the pool was more than big enough for people to be able to avoid him. “Funny...so far the only ones who seem to have a problem with me are you and your heathen. So how about you take your fat arse and your crotch dropling and shove off.” She was red-faced now, mouth flapping as she sputtered in her rage. Murdoc cracked a toothy smile and swatted some water at her. Go ahead and bring a rent-a-cop. He was just as much a paying customer and seeing he and Naya were set up in a luxury suite, those rent-a-cops had better kiss his narrow arse! She continued to flutter and babble, refusing to move from where his feet were. He cocked an eyebrow. “Are you thick as well, chickie? Christ, the best parts of you must have ran down your Mum’s leg.”

“How dare you!” she snapped. “You don’t even live in this country and you have the audacity to talk to me like that!”

“Ohh, lookie here, kiddie winkles, Shamu here learned large words!” he cackled, flicking more water at her. “Listen, I’m stoned, half buzzed and just want to enjoy my holiday like the rest of these fucking muppets. Move along.”

“I’m getting the manager and security!” she barked as she turned to exit the pool.

“You go on and do that,” he mumbled with a shrug, taking another sip from his drink. She was no longer amusing to him. He just wanted to enjoy his stay at the resort like everyone else. Why were American children so fucking rude? And their parents....holy Lucifer! Little Timmy could do no wrong! They could be standing there watching the little sod nick chocolates from the market and they’d still insist the little fucker was innocent! Murdoc shook his head, muttering to himself as he continued to work on his drink. “Yanks....fucking far out.”

Naya eventually returned, but so did Shamu and some polo shirt clad sod with a name tag that had the resort name in big bold letters with the name _Seth_ clearly made with a labeling gun and slapped beneath it. Poor Seth. Naya looked at them in confusion as she waded towards Murdoc, also carrying two drinks in her hand. Oh, now that was so very kind of her to think of him like that. He tucked the nearly empty glass between him and the float and reached for the fresh drink happily. Shamu was still babbling and sputtering at poor Seth, telling him about how rude the weird little man was and how her cursed at her and her child, blah blah blah. Naya rested a hand on his ankle, casting some slightly annoyed side glances at him as she tried to interrupt and find out what happened. Shamu threw a finger in his direction, both chins wiggling as she spoke. “He refused to move out of the pool when asked and then cursed at me and my son!”

Murdoc scoffed loudly as he took a drink from the fresh glass. “ _Asked_? Your little cum stain ordered me to move and you demanded I take me and my floats elsewhere. You _asked me_...that’s fucking laughable!”

Seth raised both hands up. “Please, we do have children here, sir, the language isn’t necessary.”

Naya waded over to the resort employee and Shamu. “Wait...he’s with me...what happened?”

“Nothing happened, love,” Murdoc snapped, his irritation rising. “Just a lady getting bent out of shape because someone wouldn’t let her kid act like a fucking nuisance.”

“Language, sir!” Seth snapped from poolside. “If you can’t refrain from cursing, we will need to ask you to leave the pool area.”

“Splendid!” Murdoc leaned back in his floatie, his face settled in a deep frown as he sucked off his straw. If they threw him out of the pool, he would make the biggest scene ever. They were paying good fucking money to stay at this place and no midwestern Yank parking her fat arse in an econo-suite was going to get him ousted. Naya was still arguing with the poor Seth and it took Murdoc a few moments to realize she was telling them he wasn’t right in the head. Traumatic brain injury? Tourettes? Was she for fucking real? “Oi, I don’t have fucking Tourettes and I sure as hell don’t have any kind of brain injuries! Where the fuck did you get that idea!”

Naya flashed him a murderous look and he clamped his mouth shut, shrinking back against the float. Fine, let the paid help handle it then. He continued to suck off his straw, trying to ignore the multitude of bickering voices as Shamu continued to insist he be tossed from the pool while Seth stated he couldn’t toss him out because someone was mad at him and Naya kept breaking in and trying to explain that he doesn’t know how to behave in public and to let her handle him. Shamu continued to run her meat hole. Naya broke in and pointed out that the child shouldn’t be barking orders at strangers. Shamu was getting upset. Seth was trying to referee...

Hmm, maybe he needed to give this a listen because it was pretty fucking entertaining.

They continued to argue about him as if he were not even there. All that was left was people coming to blows and he’d probably pay to see that. To his complete and utter disappointment, Seth recommended that Shamu and her crotch fruit just stay away from him and Naya. He had kind of hoped to see Shamu lose it and start hitting people, but this worked just as well because Shamu wasn’t having it. Nope, not at all. She didn’t like Seth’s suggestion one bit. It was either have Murdoc removed or nothing at all. But Seth was standing his ground. Floatie man and his hot woman were paying patrons just as much as Shamu and her crotch droplings were so they could either avoid one another and don’t speak to each other or he will just see about having them all removed from the pool. Murdoc wasn’t on board with this idea and opened his mouth to say something only for Naya to raise a hand in warning without even looking at him. Naya agreed that avoiding each other was the best course of action and turned to him with a rather displeased look on her face as she pushed him in the floatie towards the corner of the deep end. “I asked you to give me twenty minutes, Murdoc. Just twenty minutes. And you go and pick a fight with the local Karen and her goblin?”

“I was just floating here and minding me own business, lovey,” he said curtly, sucking from his straw. “Her little cum stain started it.”

“That kid was maybe eleven years old,” she grumbled, pulling his drink from his hand and taking a drink from the glass. “You’re the adult here, dude. Seriously...forty-odd year old man arguing with a fifth grader over pool space. I think I’ve seen everything.”

“I told him to shove off and he went and got Shamu over there to back him up.” He huffed loudly, feigning annoyance as he snatched back his drink. “It’s a right shame you couldn’t even take my side in this, Naya. I’m the victim here!”

“Of course,” she said through a snorting laugh. “Such a victim...”

“I am! On the run, people trying to kill me and now being pushed around by some Yank bitch and her spawn...not allowed to enjoy what I’m paying for...”

Naya scoffed loudly, moving him around on the floatie slowly. He opened his mouth to say some more about the matter, feeling as if his point hadn’t sunk in, but she smiled up at him and one of her hands was now slinking up his leg. Now, this was a pleasant distraction. A low rumble escaped from him as her hand slid further up his thigh. If she was able to sneak in some hand action, he’d be down with it. Hell, get him fired up enough and he wouldn’t give a damn about all the bystanders. She merely smiled and massaged his legs, moving him around further across the pool. He sucked on his straw with raised eyebrows, ready for whatever she might do to get the bloodflow to nose-dive southbound. Her hands were moving again, both of them sliding past his knee caps. Come on, just a little further. Little further. Christ, she was less than two feet away from his cock. Just get on with it!

Everything briefly spun in his vision. The drink went flying from his hand as he let out a squawk of surprise and was suddenly underwater, bubbles everywhere as he roared and cursed and flailed around in the depths before finally breaking the surface. “What are you trying to do...drown me!”

Laughing, Naya disappeared under the surface of the water and he could feel her fluttering around his legs and ankles. He looked around him, seeing her shape in the water as it swam in circles around his legs, sometimes caressing a thigh and other times getting dangerously close to his cock. When she finally emerged directly in front of him, she was pressed up against him, shifting her hips against him slowly. Okay, now this was more he liked it. It didn’t take much for him to get hard as she continued to grind against him. “How fast can you cum?” she whispered in his ear, arms around his shoulders.

His expression went slack as she pressed hard against him, massaging his erection just right. A few people were now casting some pretty weird looks in their direction and there was only brief consideration of the fact that they were in a very public pool. She flexed her hips against him again and the pressure brought a huffed groan from him. “Fffuck,” he whispered, pressing his face into her hair. “Keep doing what you’re doing...” He tried to keep his movements as minimal as possible, huffing against her hair as she continued to grind against him. He wanted to flex and move to keep the good feelings going but recognized their very public position and all he could do was cling to her as she shifted and flexed her hips against him, his breathing now coming out in short and breathy whimpers.

“They’re watching us.” He had barely heard Naya’s voice over the own static in his brain as he came closer and closer to climax, whimpering against her as she continued to press her hips into him. Christ, how hard would it be to lower the waistband of the shorts and slid inside of her? He couldn’t think and couldn’t even focus on anything else other than the blissful feelings of release that were maybe a few grinds away as she worked against him harder. He bit his lip hard when the moment hit, pressing his forehead against her shoulder, stifling the cry that threatened, moaning against the water. He was barely conscious of the water or the buzzing in his head as he drifted with her slowly through the deep side of the massive swimming pool. Had people realized what was going on? He blinked, every part of him feeling too weak to move as he slowly lifted his head. Most of the other people in the pool were occupied and only a few seemed to be watching them with curiosity. If they knew what they’d seen, they weren’t letting on.

Though he was aware their resort stay wasn’t necessarily a holiday, there was little denying the fact that he’d probably cherish this trip in the memory banks.


	9. Gods and Monsters

They’d run into Clara and Brett quite a few times over the next few days or so. Every single time, both Murdoc and Naya would wink or make some lewd face at them, causing the younger couple to dart off in the opposite direction with a quickness. Murdoc found it pretty fucking funny. They’d been having such a grand time at the resort that he truly had to continuously remind himself that they were essentially hiding out from killers. Given the fact that they’d been there almost a week without much issue, he was ready to assume that Medusa and The Black Clouds had left the islands in their hunt for the elusive Niccals. But Naya warned him that they really couldn’t let their guard down. Well, maybe she couldn’t. He certainly had from the moment they’d arrived and based off how often he and Naya were hooking up with one another, it wasn’t too much of a stretch to assume she was letting her guard down more than she was willing to admit.

The evening had them sitting at a bar just outside of the resort, drinking and laughing. Murdoc and her had a bet one whether or not one or both could bed Brett’s little wifey, Clara. Clara wasn’t really Murdoc’s type but there was one thing he couldn’t resist and that was a challenge. She was thin and kind of shapeless in the baggy dresses she wore around the resort. Even her swimwear had been shapeless – full of crinkles and ruffles that he found out through Naya were intentional. Those ghastly swimsuits were made that way intentionally to hide your body! The whole point of swimwear was to show yourself off. He even kept a speedo on hand for when he was feeling particularly daring. Clara wandered with Brett as if she were trying to protect him from all the evils of the world. Almost comical if not so pathetic. He suspected they had come from a pretty sheltered community and darling Brett had decided to go to the light, much to poor Clara’s dismay. Murdoc found this fascinating because they appeared your mostly average thirty-somethings but they also seemed so naïve and even a bit scared of everything. It was possible they’d given her precious Brett a real taste of freedom.

Naya was convinced the woman wouldn’t crack, but Murdoc was confident that one or both could break through that goody two shoes bullshit facade. He’d bedded hundreds of men and women, sometimes too fucking high to remember how many in a night or even what they’d looked like. Hard to pass up opportunity when faced with so many groupies more than willing to do filthy things for him and to him. He’d encountered quite a few women who were as stiff and uppity as the Clara woman. A few well places flatteries, maybe show her what his tongue could do, and it wouldn’t be long before she was feral and gagging for it.

“You’re very full of yourself,” Naya said with a roll of her eyes as they both nursed drinks. “The only thing you have going for you is the six inch tongue and eight inch dick.”

“That’s really all I need!” Murdoc laughed, lighting himself a cigarette. “Clearly there’s something about me that’s attractive enough. I’m fucking you, aren’t I? I’ve managed to fuck so many people over the last decade alone, I couldn’t even give you a number.”

“Whore.” She lit herself a cigarette and leaned back into the chair.

“You’re still fucking me, Naya...so what does that make you?”

She snorted, throwing some chips at him. “An idiot.”

“I’m offended.” He batted away the chips, trying to scoff at her but only managing to erupt into a wheezing laugh. “Life is too short to stick with one piece of arse and plant yourself somewhere for the rest of your days.”

“You’ve never been in any kind of relationship?” She drained what remained in her glass, gesturing at the bartender to bring her another. “No girlfriend or boyfriend back in Stoke?”

“Eugh...one or two, maybe,” he said with a shrug. “When I was still young and idealistic. There was a cute lil’ bird I went on a handful of dates with when I was maybe fourteen. Her Dad told me to stay away from her when he found out who my father was.” He frowned at the memory. She’d been such a nice girl and he’d felt like he was cloud nine when she’d accepted his request they go on a few dates. He’d had no pocket money to speak of, having to nick a few quid from his knuckle dragging brother’s room when the beast had been out cold from a night of partying. They’d gone to a cafe on their first date and to the movies on their second or third date. He’d gotten to second base that night, hadn’t he? Sadly, because of his father and older brother, far too many Stokies weren’t too keen on runty lil’ Murdy courting their daughters. He found out later down the road that his father had gotten around quite a bit and since this was before DNA and blood tests, a few families had children that may or may not have been fathered by Sebastian and sweet dear Veronica had apparently been one of those mystery children. Made him rather thankful that all he’d managed was to cop a feel.

“No one else?” she asked with raised eyebrows.

“One other...when I was in my twenties.” He nursed his drink slowly, trying to piece together the memories. He’d been balls deep in speed addiction at that time and he remembered a bird who’d been a regular in his memories enough to realize they may have been dating. Or just fucking. “I was up to my eyeballs in speed at that point, love, so I don’t recall much about it,” he said finally. He peered over at her, cocking an eyebrow. “What about you? You married once. What made you decide it was time to be free and fuck whatever?”

Naya shrugged, her brow twitching as she pondered over his question. It wasn’t a difficult question. Usually people willing to settle down and get married often weren’t so quick to throw away dreams of finding Mister of Missus Right. After what felt like the longest moment of silence ever, she took a breath finally. “Never had an issue with the whole _No Strings Attached_ type thing. If I found someone worth my time, I’d stick it out with them. Just because one is willing to settle down doesn’t mean they’re against a hook up.”

Murdoc lit himself a cigarette, nodding his head. “Right...fair point. Reckon it’s a rare thing because I’ve never encountered anyone who had been married or in any kind of long term relationship willing to hook up for no strings attached fucking. They always expected more from it...”

“It’s a lot more common than you probably think,” she remarked in a matter of fact tone. “As for myself, I played around when I wasn’t actually with someone. And after the marriage went down in flames, I decided I needed to just enjoy things. My line of work makes settling down kind of difficult anyway. A lot of lies and secrecy. Easier to just fuck and run.”

“Understandable.” He swirled his drink around in his glass. “Never crossed my mind to settle down, really. The moment I figured out how great shagging was, I couldn’t stick with just one. I’ve been fucking for well over thirty years and my mind isn’t changed yet!”

Naya nodded, flashing an understanding smile as she grabbed her new drink. “Man, you must have started fucking at quite the young age. Like twelve or something.”

“Nine,” he mumbled abruptly, not looking up from his drink. “I was nine...and she was, err....much much older.” The last time he’d spoke aloud about this had been an early interview with some music rag back during the very beginnings of Gorillaz. He generally tried not to think about it. He wasn’t even sure why he spoke up. Naya didn’t need to know this.

She stared at his expressionless face, brow furrowed in what he could only assume was confusion. The seconds ticked away as her confused expression melted into surprise then...sadness? “Oh. Uhh...wow. I’m sorry, man.”

He drained what remained in his glass, cracking a broad and toothy smile in an effort to disguise the strange and conflicting emotions that stewed just beneath the surface. “No worries, love. It happened. Can’t change it. Move on and forward and sample all the world has to offer me.”

She nodded her head in agreement but said nothing further on the subject. The subject shifted back to whether or not Clara would crack. He was still convinced he could get her so quivering and wet that she’d be begging them both to have their way with her. It was also suggested that if they could get Brett back into their snare, Clara might be more inclined to join them. Naya wasn’t convinced. She was adamant that Brett’s sheltered little wife was too firm in her beliefs on the matter or whatever and nothing said or done could get her to cave. Given her state of dress and how she glared at the two of them, Naya suspected some extreme fundamentalism at play. This made no sense to Murdoc because if she was some kind of hard core holy roller, why have their honeymoon at a resort full of temptation? There were half naked people walking around everywhere! But what did he know of those fundie types? He usually mocked them because they freaked out at the mere idea of enjoying something.

There had to be some kind of religious beliefs in play because she’d found out her new husband had cheated with both a man and a woman on their honeymoon and wasn’t kicking him to the curb or running back to whatever commune they’d come from. While Murdoc wasn’t one for settling, if he’d found out a partner he was willing to dedicate himself to had gone and sampled some of the wild side behind his back, he wouldn’t be so willing to forgive and forget, let alone stay with them. Religious fundies were weird like that. He’d even heard tales of wives and families finding out a husband fancied children and the women still sticking it out with them. It was disgusting. He had a general dislike for children, but certainly did not wish harm on them. Everything about organized religion rubbed him the wrong way. It was especially that whole _turning the other cheek_ thing they peddled that got under his skin. To hell with turning the other cheek. If someone wronged you, make them suffer for it! Clara should be making Brett’s life a living hell for two timing her!

“Speak of the devil,” Naya whispered, tapping his hand and pointing across the bar. “Our lovebirds have arrived.” He followed her hand across the room, spotting the honeymooners lingering in the doorway and looking around. Naya nursed from her fresh drink with her eyes on the newcomers. “Put your money where you mouth is, Niccals. Let’s see you try to work your magic so you can just admit defeat and pay me the hundred.”

“You’re on,” he chuckled, grabbing his drink and rising up from his chair. He waited for them to get a good look around, finally appearing to claim a table. He lit himself a cigarette and leaned into the counter to wait them out a bit, trying to ignore Naya’s whispered demands he get over there and prove himself. Got to give this kind of thing some time. They’d clearly traumatized the couple and if he went strolling up to their table now, they’d just get up and vacate. Could have the bartender send them a few drinks to butter things up.

Naya gave him a hard nudge. He stumbled forward with a grunt, catching the attention of a few at the bar counter. Smirking, he spun around and flipped Naya the middle finger before turning to make his way across the bar. So far neither one of them noticed his approach and he continued forward, closing the distance between them before grabbing a chair and seating himself at their table. “Welly, well, well, who do we have here?”

Clara sneered at him briefly but looked straight at Brett, continuing whatever boring arsed conversation they’d been having. He sat there and waited patiently, catching Brett occasionally glancing at him and – if he didn’t know any better – blushing. Oooh, ho ho, this was far the fuck out. The man could barely get through the conversation he was having. Was he remembering what it felt like having his dick buried in some hot cunt while getting pummeled up the arse? Remembering how Murdoc’s dick tasted in his mouth? Actually, just sitting here and twiddling his thumbs was far more entertaining that saying a word to them. Brett kept stuttering in his responses to his quaint and boring little wife, his cheeks flaring up a brilliant pink. Clara appeared to be tiring of it pretty quick, finally turning to Murdoc. “Can we help you?”

“Not at all, love,” Murdoc said with a toothy grin. “Just thought since Brett and I here got to know one another at a more _intimate level_ , wouldn’t hurt to pop over and say hi.” The fleeting look of repulsion that flickered across the woman’s face was almost enough to make Murdoc lose it entirely. He maintained the smile, one hand on his drink, the other tracing lazy circles on the table top with his nail. “Now I get it, you’re understandably hurt...can’t fault you for that. Marriage is a big step. However, my associate and I really like you two. Threesomes and foursomes isn’t everyone’s bag, and judging by the look on your face, lovey, I’d say such a thing is out of the question for you...”

“It’s wrong!” she spat, glaring at him. “It’s deviant behavior. Brett caves to temptation of such behavior...it was why his parents pushed him to get married.”

Murdoc’s grin collapsed entirely and he glanced over at Brett, who was staring at the table. “Wait, so you were well aware that he had a proclivity towards both men and women...and instead of allowing him to explore this, you lot pushed him to marry your sorry looking arse?”

“Sexual deviancy has no place in society,” she said in a firm tone.

“Fucking hell, mate, I’m so sorry you married this thing,” Murdoc huffed, patting Brett’s arm. He turned his attention to Clara, plastering the smile back onto his face. “Look, if you’re not into fucking birds, I am willing to accept that. I imagine if you and I got to know one another a little better and maybe have your precious Brett here join in, you might realize just how backwards those beliefs are. There’s nothing wrong with exploring different things, Clara.”

Clara bristled. “We’re married now. Committed to each other. What gives you the right to think you can waltz in and get between us like this?”

“A six inch tongue and an eight inch cock that your husband begged for,” he chuckled. “I’m sure the above mentioned things would have you wild with lust once you got a taste of it.”

“Disgusting,” she snapped, shaking her head.

“Come off it, love, what’s so damned disgusting about it?” he asked gruffly. “It’s human nature to explore new ways to feel good.”

“It’s wrong,” she said, looking directly at him. “We’re married. We’re committed to each other and each other only.”

“Oh balls,” he spat. “You were well aware that your fresh new husband here leans both ways and instead of accepting him as he was, you lot shamed him and forced him to marry a bird to avoid some sort of arse-backwards backwoods scandal.”

Clara scowled at him, matching glares. “He will not cave to that temptation. He’s married now and he will remain married. Over time, those impure impulses will fade...”

Murdoc erupted into a cackling laugh, slamming his fist into the table. “Holy hell, you’re quite the delusional bird, aren’t you? You really think he will continue to pound your dry cunt for the rest of his days and never ever want the other? Oh I have news for you, doll...I was shoved into a similar box. Told I had to pick one. Know what I did? Found the other in secret. I’m telling you now, love, accept him as he is and indulge a little or else you’re going to find yourself trapped with a bunch of snot nosed brats and on your own because he bolted to San Fran with his hot new Bear he met at the local gay nightspot.”

The look on Clara’s face was fucking comical because she obviously had never considered that. It may or may not happen, but she was too naïve to realize this. Bretty boy may very well remain faithful to his boring little wife, but given the fact he’d been so willing to indulge with Murdoc and Naya while on his bloody honeymoon, Murdoc was pretty sure this bloke would be looking for men behind his wife’s back. She seemed the type who would know damned well what he was doing but refusing to acknowledge it. Trapped at home with a kid attached to each tit and lamenting over her husband working such late hours while deep down knowing _exactly_ what he was really doing. He watched as the couple exchanged looks, his words appearing to have the effect he was aiming for. He wanted to gloat that he’d finally managed to break through, but they weren’t in the clear yet. If Naya was going to owe him some cash, he needed to get this girl in bed. Though his words appeared to finally be sinking in, it could still take some work to break down some of those walls society and religion had installed. He could tell she appeared to be warming up to the idea of spicing things up with her new husband, but how far she would be willing to go was another matter. For some, spicing things up meant maybe introducing a few toys and nothing more. He was proposing she allow them to add a whole extra person. And he would be just the person they needed! He had experience, zero emotional attachments and willing to do damned near anything.

Brett spoke up suddenly. “I don’t want to have to hide a part of myself.”

Clara’s brow furrowed, her eyes flickering over to Murdoc. “It just feels wrong.”

“Bah,” Murdoc spat, waving his hand. “That’s just society’s conditioning, love. I grew up with a father and brother who would have beat me arse if they’d known I liked men as well as women. Grew up in a community that made it very clear deviating from the norm wasn’t accepted.”

Clara took a deep breath, her voice shaking. “Is this what you really want, Brett?”

“Not all the time,” he muttered. “Just once in a while, maybe. Find someone who won’t mind hanging out with both of us...”

“I don’t know if I could do it,” she whispered. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”

Murdoc cracked a devious smile. She was finally starting to crack and come out of that shell. This was perfect. But he had to time this just right. Choose his words carefully. Prim and proper little Clara had been raised to shun such ideas and even if she was staring to open up to the concept, he had to tread cautiously. He reached out slowly and grabbed both their hands. “We could go back to your room...you don’t have to do anything, darling Clara...you can watch and when you’re comfortable enough to join, hop right in.”

Brett took a shaky breath. “You’ll really like it,” he insisted, smiling across the table at her.

Clara’s brow furrowed, slowly looking at both Brett and then Murdoc. “If I don’t feel comfortable with it, you’ll stop yes?”

“Scout’s honor,” Murdoc said, crossing an X across his chest with his finger.

Both Clara and Brett stood up, finishing their drinks. Murdoc cracked a smile, looking across the bar at Naya, who was now narrowing her eyes at him. He threw both arms around their shoulders and they moved as one towards the entrance. He cast one last look over at Naya, toothy grin on his face. She was now staring at him with her mouth hanging open in surprise. As much as he wanted to really rub it in her face about his success, he kept his focus on the two warm bodies he was pressed between, his mind already thinking of the filthy things he could get Brett and Clara to do to him. He’d get her so worked up, she wouldn’t even be able to think straight. The word no would never pass her lips because he’d make sure she was more than comfortable. When they returned back to whatever closeted community they lived in, they’d have some glorious memories of their honeymoon, no doubt about it. Shame he couldn’t watch how they assimilated back into their community. Hiding their dirty little secrets from everyone. Probably would be the type to act all pious about it during the day and during whatever religious services they attended and then be total freaks during the twilight hours. How they handled their newfound freedom wasn’t his concern. He’d opened a whole new world for little Clara here and if her and Bretty boy could use his lessons down the road, all the better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Murdoc hummed to himself as he unlocked the suite door and slipped inside. Naya was lounging on the sofa, the Cyborg standing right next to the sofa, holding a bowl of popcorn in its hands and Hunter was dozing atop the sofa behind Naya’s head. Naya looked up at him as he came in but returned her attention back to the whatever flick she’d been watching. Murdoc tossed the keycard and his wallet onto the counter in the small kitchen, not bothering to hide the toothy grin on his face as he sauntered across the room and plopped himself down onto the sofa next to Naya. “You owe me a hundred bucks, girlie,” he chuckled.

“How do I know you just didn’t sit in there and watch them fuck?” she asked with raised eyebrows, looking over at him.

He pulled out his cell phone, passing it over to her. “Figured you’d demand proof...take a look.”

“They let you record it?” she asked, pulling up his gallery.

“Of course they didn’t,” he cackled. “Do you know how hard it was to get this thing set up so they didn’t realize I was fucking recording it?” A snorting laugh erupted from him as he leaned over to get a look at the video. “Rest assured, I won’t upload this to Porn Hub or Red Tube anytime soon. Keeping this for my own personal spank bank material.”

“You like watching yourself fucking?” She cocked an eyebrow. “Stupid question...of course you do.” She pulled the video up, watching as both Clara and Brett timidly started to kiss and paw at one another while Murdoc sat in the chair by the bed, stroking himself. Naya’s mouth quirked, the smile and laugh just there as she watched the couple clumsily roll around on the bed. “Jesus, were they virgins or something when they married?”

“Amazingly no,” he said through another snort. “Just very inexperienced and reckon Brett isn’t really attracted to her. Based off our conversations, it sounds like they were kinda forced into the whole marriage gig by their families to cover up the fact that Brett swings both ways.”

Naya sat upright as she watched the video progress, leaning into him so they could both watch the video. Through the clumsy tangle, Brett could be heard finally encouraging Murdoc to join in. Murdoc cracked a smile as he watched the video. He had remained true to his word and any time Clara had appeared uncomfortable, he had asked her if she needed him to back away. Luckily for him, neither she nor Brett minded having him in the mix and things had gone quite well. Tangling between them, using his tongue on Clara’s body and having her practically melt against him. He honestly had rather liked being pressed between them, feeling their mouths on his body, his cock. That had been quite the sight, seeing husband and wife worship his cock with their mouths. He probably would have blown then and there. They certainly had gotten into it and before long, Murdoc was driving himself into Clara while Brett stroked himself and then Bretty boy had his turn while Murdoc stroked himself. He’d wanted to plow her arse and had tried desperately to get her comfortable with the idea, but that had been one threshold she had been unwilling to cross so he simply pressed his length against the crevice of her arse while stroking himself slowly. She might not like the idea of a cock going up her arse, but massaging outside her arse was a different story.

Overall, it had been a decent enough experience. Grand ending of fucking Brett while he fucked his precious Clara, the man actually cumming twice. Clara had been breathless and barely able to move by the time everyone had finished. Husband and wife seemed content and satisfied and, well, that was the whole point, wasn’t it? Murdoc had dressed quickly and retrieved his cell phone, but not before winking and smirking at it as he shut it down. Silently tucking the cell into the pocket of his shorts and exiting the room without a word. Humming and dancing in the halls as he’d made he way to the lift on his way back to his room.

As the video finished with Murdoc’s wink and cheeky little smirk, Naya guffawed loudly and handed him back his cell. “I guess I owe you a Benajamin.”

“That you do,” he chuckled, giving Hunter a few scratches. “I only take cash. No PayPal.”

Still laughing, Naya got to her feet and strolled into the bedroom. She emerged moments later with a crisp hundred dollar bill in her hand, slapping it into his hand. “Good show, man. I’m still shocked you managed to get them both into bed.”

“Told you, love, nobody can resist the tongue or the firepower I’m packing.” He tucked the bill into the pocket of his shorts and eased himself deeper into the sofa cushions. “Don’t be surprised if they come back for more before they take off back to whatever commune they live in.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An evening stroll on the beach suited Murdoc just fine. Naya came through like a champ and managed to find him some grade A coke. What a fucking doll she was! He’d done several lines and was feeling very very nice as they wandered out to the beach to watch the surf and the few tourists who had remained past dark to enjoy the water and moonlight. Naya had even brought along her satchel with some of that primo weed and her pipe. Not a bad evening if he said so himself. Both were barefoot, sandals stowed away in her little shoulder satchel. Felt pretty bloody good being able to feel the sand between his toes. And there also was a comfortable breeze coming from the East and the surf glittered from the moon high above their heads. It really was a beautiful evening and this wasn’t something he often took the time to notice.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone for a stroll on the beach after hours with someone he could actually tolerate. Last time probably had been with Stu when they’d been in Jamaica. They’d spent most of that little holiday goofing off and fucking the locals. That was how Stu had found out Murdoc was bi. Initially, 2D had been uncomfortable about it, but Murdoc had assured him hell would freeze over before he ever found the lanky blue haired twit attractive enough to shag. Yes, he liked both men and women. No need to make a big fucking deal about it. He still had some standards and fucking co-workers wasn’t on his itinerary. Dents couldn’t keep his mouth shut about it, though, and eventually word had gotten to the record label. It wasn’t long before his agent and some suits were dragging him to meetings left and right, explaining how his sexual tastes could turn off fans and since his largest fan demographic had been female, it was best to just stick with them. He’d agreed, of course. Didn’t mean he actually would keep his word. It just meant he had to be a bit more discreet about it.

“So, where should we go from here,” Naya asked suddenly.

Murdoc cracked a toothy smile. “Dunno, love. Could find a quaint little flat together, maybe get a dog...could get you a ring in a year or two...”

“You’re something else, dude,” she sighed, trying hard not to smile but failing miserably. “I don’t think I have ever met anyone like you...and I’ve been paid to handle some pretty spoiled rich boys.”

“I’m one of a kind, Naya,” he said in a matter of fact tone. “You remember that when you move on to being Justin Bieber’s handler.”

She erupted into a good natured laugh. At least she had a great sense of humor about it all. He probably should be counting his lucky stars that she hadn’t gotten attached. They’d essentially been fucking for nearly two weeks, if not longer. Women usually always became attached at that point. But neither of them were exclusively fucking each other, they dabbled about through-out the resort and sometimes even shared bedmates. Naya had brought a beautiful creature back to the room a night or two ago and after she’d had her fill, convinced the woman to bed him while she watched.

He sighed, taking in the salty air. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to leave this paradise just yet. At some point, he would have to move on. Money he certainly had, but with only small amounts of royalties coming in from album sales, the money wouldn’t last forever. He was comfortable and could remain comfortable for a long while, but not while residing at a resort and paying seven hundred a night for the suite they were in. Even with Naya footing half, it still drained them both unnecessarily. Could find a regular bungalow to rent out. Wouldn’t be as big and as spacious as the penthouse suite, but a grand a month was definitely better than the tens of thousands they would end up paying if they remained in the suite another three weeks.

He felt Naya grab his hand and pull him towards the surf. “It’s still warm,” she said as the water reached their feet. He found himself quite surprised at this because the water surrounding the junk island had been bone numbingly cold. They continued to walk, occasionally kicking at the surf as it submerged their feet past their ankles. How was it something so simple could bring a smile? He was smiling as Naya pranced in the water like a little kid, kicking at the surf and sending sparkling droplets of water into the air around them. There were others out and about, many of them doing the same. Dancing about in the surf, kicking up water, some even wading a little deeper to splash at each other. He strolled along, kicking at the water and laughing when Naya tried to do a somersault and ended up nearly falling into the water. “Shit, my gun!” she barked, struggling to raise herself upright and check her back. Holy hell, she was actually armed? He would never have caught that. But sure enough, when she raised up the back of the loose and flowy tank top she was wearing, he caught the sight of a holstered gun tucked behind the waistband of her capris.

“Have you been armed this entire time?” he asked as she straightened herself and returned to walk beside him.

“Pretty much,” she said, straightening her clothes. “Only time I wasn’t was at the pool.”

“ You barely had any fucking clothing on and you manged to hide a fucking gun?” He couldn’t lie – he was fucking impressed. He had no idea she had been armed through most of their time wandering the resort. He’d never noticed. And fuck it all, she’d been wearing some pretty skimpy outfits. Part of him wondered now if she’d been hiding her gun in her cunt.

“Did you forget what I do for a living?” she laughed. “Err... _hello_ !”

“ Right...right...” He chuckled to himself as they continued along their walk.  Of course she would be well versed on how to hide a weapon. She had to blend in to her surroundings. He sometimes forgot that this strange partnership was purely paid companionship. Couldn’t deny that he had a fucking blast hanging out with her. 

“Got a weird question for ya, man,” she said suddenly. 

“Shoot,” he said, lighting himself a cigarette.

“I know we’ve crossed this bridge a few times, but it just doesn’t make any sense to me...” She lit her own cigarette, eyes locked on him. “You have kids scattered around the world, one of them still a baby, if I remember right. You admit you’ ve had a few relationships in the past. So you’re telling me, given everything you’ve accomplished in your life and everything you’ve managed to do...that settling down with someone never crossed your mind? No biological clock thing or anything like that? Most men your age usually start feeling something at this point.”

He cracked a goofy smile back at her. “ Aww, that’s sweet that you think we could settle down together.”

Naya frowned, shaking her head. “No more jokes, Murdoc. C’mon now, it’s a serious question.”

He kept the smile plastered across his face. He wasn’t really in the mood for serious questions, especially questions like this. Not the first time someone had asked this. A few music rags had asked similar questions to him, Dents and Russ in the past. He hated those kinds of questions. Felt they were prying and really nobody’s business. Not everyone wanted a soulmate and little house with the white picket fence. He thought he’d wanted it back when he was just a kid, but life and success made him realize there was much more to existing than just settling down with someone in some Stepford neighborhood. He glanced over at Naya, who was still staring at him and waiting for a response. “Just doesn’t interest me,” he said finally. “Might have considered it briefly when I was a lad, but once I realize there was much more to life than settling down, buying a house and chasing the neighborhood kids off me lawn...I couldn’t fathom how anyone wanted that kind of life.”

“Ever wonder about your kids?”

A joke bubbled up to his lips, but he swallowed it back. No, he never really thought about them beyond when he had the accountant send the payment once a month. The older five were adults now and had their own band happening. They shared DNA and nothing more. He hadn’t even known about them until he’ d got ten the government letter about the child support arrears three or four years ago and they'd been adults at this point. That had been a near-heart attack. It was why he’ d been so willing to pay off the bird with the youngest one. She gets maintenance payments, it’s documented on his end and should her state try to pursue him for support, he had all his ducks in a row. The bird was good to her word  and never bothered him. The last communication had been when he’d had the first payment sent. She’d told him the money wasn’t necessary. He insisted, of course, only to spare him another government headache twenty years down the road. “Not really.  Nice to know my legacy lives on, but that’s about it. Five only see me as a donor, nothing more. The tot will know whatever their mother tells them.”

“Just surprises me that you’re so hands off about it all,” Naya said with a shrug. “I’ve met a fair share of wealthy playboys needing to be kept on a short leash and nearly every single one of them expressed regret for not being involved with kids they’d had...”

“ You’ve been mucking about with me long enough to know I’m not like everyone else,” he laughed. “I’m not Dad material, Naya. Anyone who knows me well enough knows this.”

“You played a part in raising your guitarist when she was young,” Naya pointed out. “And I know you have a soft spot for her because I’ve seen you watch that video of her over and over again. You can’t tell me you’re not father material.”

Murdoc opened his mouth to protest, but closed it abruptly.  Okay, so she had a point when it came to Noodle. But he reasoned it was a little different. He wasn’t a hundred percent hands on because Russ had picked up that mantle. Murdoc had helped her with different guitar chords and introduced her to some good punk bands.  He’d shown her the different pranks they could play on Stu. Strangely enough, though he’d been more comfortable playing the role of the weird and goofy uncle, she’d seen him as the father figure because it had been him who handled the tutors who grew frustrated with her broken English. It had been him who haggled with her agent. It had been him who handled the fans who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves when she’d been a teenager. And it had been him who spent many nights in jail for showing those handsy sods what happened to creepers who pawed on little girls.

“You’re quiet,” she said suddenly. “Which tells me you’re thinking about what I said.”

“Or just picturing your starkers and riding my cock,” he said with a lewd smile. “ What about you? You said yourself you had no interest in having kids and enjoy playing the field. Why break me balls?”

“The kind of work I do makes it pretty fucking hard, don’t you think?” She took a final drag from her smoke and pinched the cherry into the sand. “I have an excuse. You could retire now and go play house with that chick with the baby. Or find a new chick to play house with and have another.”

“Christ, I’m forty-six, not sixty-six,” he shot back with a laugh. “Fuck the whole settling down bit. I’m in the prime of my life, doll! World at my feet. Can do whatever I want.  And  I’m high as fuck right now....like I can really camp my arse with some clueless bird and make babies.  Most frown upon still liking the occasional line of speed or coke, ya know.  They’d toss me into rehab, divorce my arse and I’d be on the hook for spousal and child maintenance before the tot got into nursery school!”

Nodding her head, Naya erupted into a snorting laugh.  “ Point taken.”

They continued their walk without another word. Murdoc was just glad she wasn’t backing him into corner with more weird questions.  Sure, sometimes it crossed his mind, but generally he’d remind himself that he was one big fucking hot mess and enjoyed not being tethered to anything. Maybe some day he would pop back to Seattle and check in on that bird with the  tot , but he wasn’t going to set that in stone. And even if he did, this didn’t mean he was ready to throw it all away and play weekend warrior dad.  She’d been quite the hellcat between the sheets and maybe she’d be up for reliving how great it had been to bask in the Niccals glory.  Life was too fucking short to plant himself somewhere and wait for the end. He had people to meet, people to fuck, booze to sample and places to check out.

At some point, they managed to reach a more populated part of the beach. There were other resorts scattered up and down the beach as well as random clubs and other watering holes. Some of the beach gatherings were clearly just groups of drunk kids who’d trickled out of said bars and clubs. Naya appeared to be heading directly towards them and he wasn’t going to argue. Any time was a good time for a party! Most of the groups were quite young, but Murdoc didn’t give a toss. They all had booze and this meant they were over twenty-one – which was all he cared about. Both he and Naya broke apart and slipped into the groups effortlessly. Murdoc found a rather nice on the eyes young man who was looking for a dance partner and it appeared Naya had found herself someone looking for a good time. Booze was being passed around and Murdoc happily took a Silo cup filled with some brightly colored concoction that tasted like arse crack, but the buzz hit like a fucking hammer. 

He eventually broke away from the gorgeous young dance-partner and shimmied his way through the crowd.  Plenty of other shiny and lithe bodies to grind up against and dance away the evening.  He caught only glimpses of Naya as she moved along with the music up against a gorgeous specimen with close cropped blondish hair, olive skin and a mesh shirt that clung to every defined muscle the lad had. Murdoc kept his Silo cup in hand as he danced his way through the crowds, finding a few new faces to grind up against before drifting away to another. He could do this all night. Maybe one of these fine young things would want a more personal one on one later in their room?  He took another drink from the plastic cup, grimacing at the taste but reminding himself that the buzz was epic. Might even end the night worshiping the porcelain god, eh? That would make for a zinger of a night. Hadn’t done that in ages!  Tipping back the Silo cup, he drained back what remained and passed the cup off to some rando standing just behind him. Moving on, peeps! 

Naya seemed to have disappeared. He looked around the sea of moving bodies and heads, hoping to catch sight of her distinct red hair that had been piled atop her head with some scarves or maybe a glimpse of her arm, even a leg. Something! Where the hell had she run off to? Had she found someone for the night and decided to get right down to business? He slipped through the crowd now on high alert as he scanned over each body and face. “ Naya?” he called out. “Oi, where’d you go, love!” The next sound he heard wasn’t her responding. It was a loud bang that almost sounded like a distant pop in the air. The gathering of drunken partiers suddenly froze and there was anxious murmurs of confusion. He froze with them, now thankful that most stood almost half a head or more taller, unwittingly keeping him under cover. He knew that sound. He’d heard it often enough when he’d been drinking back at the old junk island and looking for ways to entertain himself. Firing off a handgun he’d kept around. 

Another blast echoed in the air.  Like a batch of cockroaches, the partiers scattered about in all directions and Murdoc found himself standing in the sand like a fucking fool. He turned towards the closest group, hoping to follow them. Whatever shenanigans that were about to go down, he was not going to stick around and find out the outcome.  Another report echoed from the darkness, louder this time. Murdoc turned and started to run, unsure of where to go. His luck he found a fun party and some nob had to start showing off with a gun he had no idea how to use. “Naya!” he barked, still scanning around as he struggled to run through the sand. “Naya, where are you!”

He heard the report moments before something hit him hard in the shoulder. He stumbled forward in shock, a dull burning spreading from his shoulder through his neck and down his arm. He hit the sand in a heap, getting a mouthful of it as he spat and struggled to try to push himself over. It took him several long moments to realize he’d been shot. Strangely enough, it hurt but he was mostly numb from the coke and booze so it seemed more of a nuisance than anything. Christ, how the hell did this happen? He could hear screams and people running and even sirens in the distance. Just his fucking luck, eh? Decides to party it up on the beach and gets shot by a stray fucking bullet. Splendid!  It had blown clean through too. Fucking  _really_ ? His whole right arm lay limp and useless. He could sort of move his fingers, but little else. He brought his other hand over, pressing it against the torn and bleeding shoulder, hissing at the pain when he tried to put some pressure down. “I’m getting too goddamned old for this shit,” he hissed, rolling onto his stomach in an effort to try to push himself to his feet with his good arm. 

He could hear movement behind him  as he struggled to raise himself upright. He waited, pricking his ears and straining to hear over the sound of the surf. Footsteps approaching him, followed by  laughter and the hard press of a boot onto his back  that forced him back down into the sand . “ Well, looky here, Rory,” a deep accented voice said. “Managed to clip this elusive mangy beast before he ever knew what was happening!” The accent was hard to place. Swedish? Murdoc wasn’t sure. 

“Don’t kill him,” another voice chimed in, also chuckling as Murdoc grunted and flapped around in the sand. “We need to bring him back to her. She said so.”

“Ja, I know, man,” the other voice said through a laugh. “But Medusa didn’t say we couldn’t fuck him up a little before we bring him in. Just kick him around a bit. She just said _alive_. She never specified _condition_.”

He was being hauled up to his feet and roughly spun around. Staring back at him were two grinning goons who looked like something out of a Quentin Tarantino flick. The Swede was easiest to pick out. Stereotypes are wonderful! The ogre was tall, so pale he fucking glowed and his blond hair was lifeless and stringy, failing miserably at covering up a bald spot. Perfect set of teeth though. The Clouds must have updated their dental plan. The other one was just as tall, but a bit more filled out and cruder in design. Sharp and jagged features with an American military style buzzcut. Brown or dark blond hair, difficult to tell in the piss poor lighting. “ Holy shit,” Murdoc cackled. “The bitch really sent Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-fucking-Dum after me!”

Tweedle-Dee, the giant Swede, sneered down at him. “Lots of mouth on you for someone who’s gonna die before tonight is out!”

Murdoc cracked a malicious smile  when he realized he spotted Naya several yards behind them . “ Yeah, about that, mate...I wouldn’t be so sure of myself if I were you.”

It was one thing to know what she did, another thing to really see her in action. A hand came out, locking onto the shoulder of Tweedle-Dum, before yanking him backward with a yelp. Naya was quick and efficient, managing to get her arms around the bastard’s head and  Murdoc heard a muffled snapping sound before she flung the man aside. Murdoc backed away, staring at the fallen accomplice who lay in a crumpled heap in the sand, his head turned at an impossible angle, eyes still wide with surprise. Tweedle-Dee spun around, gun raised, finding himself face to face with the woman and her own gun, which was pressed hard under his chin.  He raised his arm, bringing the gun up with those perfect dental plan teeth bared. Naya merely smirked at the man before squeezing the trigger. The ogre collapsed at her feet without a word, those perfect choppers now gooey and bloodied. Shame, really. Should probably find out what kind of plan they had because it might do him wonders if he got his own teeth fixed. 

“Why are you still standing there, you dumb fuck!” Naya snapped, grabbing the arm connected to the injured shoulder and pulling. “We need to get the fuck out of here!”


	10. Too Old For This Shit

He’d been shot. He had actually been shot!

 _Christ, it hurt_.

All Murdoc could smell was the metallic bite of blood and burnt flesh. He couldn’t believe he’d actually gotten himself shot. He had never been shot before. He’d come close on a few occasions, but had always managed to walk away unscathed. Not this time. Fucking hell, now that the adrenaline dump had run its course, he could really fucking feel it now. He craned his neck to examine it the best he could. The bullet had shot through the fleshier part of his shoulder, missing a bone and probably severing a tendon. His right arm hung limp and useless though he could – with some concentration and gritting teeth through the pain – move his hand and a few fingers. This probably wasn’t a good sign. He needed the arm to be operational. He was right handed, for fuck’s sake! He did everything with that hand, wanking included. Just what the hell was he going to do if the arm was out of commission for a month or so?

After Naya had taken out Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum, they’d managed to get back to the resort. Most of the excitement was further down and beach and so far none of the patrons of their resort were aware of any weird shit going down. A few caught sight of his bloodied shoulder and they didn’t bother to hide their stares as Naya tugged him into the lift, a few of them actually pointing in their direction as the lift doors slid shut. Luckily they were the lone occupants of the lift car. Naya exhaling loudly and sinking against the walls. Murdoc remained fixed in place, clenching his teeth against the pain. Could be much worse, he told himself. The bullet could have gotten stuck. Be thankful it went clean through because he wasn’t sure he could handle Naya pinning him down and trying to fish the bullet out. He grimaced at the thought, still holding his hand against the wound. So what was the game plan now? If the Clouds had managed to track him down to the island, there was little doubt they already knew where he was staying. Matter of fact, there were probably others scouring the beaches and resort in an attempt to look for him. Hell, the big bitch herself may very well be lurking somewhere. He glanced up at the digital display that counted upward as the lift carried them to their floor. Naya appeared almost bored as she stared up at the digital display before finally glancing over at him. “We’ll need to stitch that up. Just an FYI, but it’s gonna hurt.”

“Not worried about that,” he muttered, hissing as another bolt of pain throbbed through his arm and shoulder. “Got damned near a whole fucking pharmacy in a bag under the bed.”

Naya frowned, now staring at him. “When the hell were you going to tell me that?” she demanded curtly. “I wasted perfectly good money picking you up some fucking coke, man! And you had shit on hand this whole time?”

Murdoc gave a half shrug as they exited the lift and jogged towards their suite. “It’s literally just some pain pills and maybe a single vial of Rohypnol. Nothing special!” When she continued to flash him filthy looks, he bristled. “I wasn’t holding out on anything! Besides, its all fucking downers, woman!”

“ _Roofies_!” She flashed him a dark look as they reached the door to their suite. “What do you need fucking roofies for?”

“For me, you lippy little tart!” he barked back, unlocking the door. “Mix it with some rum and it’s a helluva ride.”

“Dude, you need to tell me these things!” She threw her hands up in defeat. “What if we need to take a plane or something? You think you’re gonna get that shit on board as a carry on?”

“Pay the flight crew enough and they’ll let anything on board,” he cackled, ignoring Naya’s still murderous look.

They managed to slip inside their room quickly and quietly, Murdoc securing the door behind them. He looked around, spotting Cyborg just standing by the sofa where they’d left it and the cat snoozing away in the center of the bed. They’d have to be ready to evacuate. He was certain of this now. Pack what they could and try to get off the island. He was also dully aware of the fact that he’d dripped blood and the trail had led straight to their suite. He stood there in the lounge for a moment, looking around frantically and unsure of where to start. Naya had already gone to the bedroom and was pulling things out of the dressers, muttering under her breath. Might be the best bet, yes? Start packing because they’d need to get the hell out. Naya was mostly preoccupied opening up the suitcases, shooing the cat away as she started hauling things out to pack. Clothing, some weapons, toiletries and that looked to be about it. Murdoc had zero intention of leaving a damned thing behind. He had souvenirs he’d purchased and they’d been expensive little tourist junk. A coconut cup with a straw and umbrella garnish, his own lei and some other stupid trinkets that he may or may not find a purpose for down the road. He pulled out the pharmaceutical bag first, rummaging around until he found the container of painkillers. Percocets and Vicodin appeared to be the only pills he had and either one would work. He could see Naya watching him as he moved around the room, grabbing with his only good arm. “Whoa, we need to get that addressed. Got anything in that pill bag that will numb it?”

“Sadly, no,” he mumbled as she ushered him over to a chair. “Vicodin and Percocets. Vial of Rohypnol and that’s it. Thought there was more, but looks like I went on a helluva bender at some point.”

He cracked a smile at her but she merely rolled her eyes and ushered him towards a chair so she could examine the wound in his shoulder. She reached out slowly and touched at the exit wound gently. “Could stitch this up. Can’t guarantee it will heal right though.” She turned back towards her suitcase, digging around into it before pulling out a long rainbow tie-dyed scarf. If she thought he was going to run around with that multi-colored atrocity wrapped around his shoulder, she was going to have another thing coming! She set the scarf aside and fumbled around until she pulled out what appeared to be a first aid kit of sorts. “Gonna need you to hold still,” she said firmly, pulling out a weird looking needle with some dark thread. “If you need to take one of those pills, dude, I’d do it now.”

Murdoc didn’t move from where he was sitting. No point in taking one of the pills now, it wouldn’t kick in for a good hour or more, not to even mention the fact that he was still riding high after the three lines he’d snorted a mere few hours ago. Either way, he was going to feel this and as adverse to pain as he was, he knew he needed to just get it over with if he had any hope of having his arm operational once it healed. He threw a few curious glances at the scarf, wondering just what she had planned for that, especially since she was pulling other things out of the small kit. Bandages, something to cover the wound once she stitched it closed and a few other items. She threaded the weird curved needle, grabbed a bottle of what he assumed was some kind of antiseptic ointment and scooted herself over in a chair, leaning in close to his shoulder. He craned his neck to try to watch, but scoffed when she grabbed his chin and forced his face forward. “Don’t move your head, man,” she instructed. “Keep looking forward. Can’t have you moving your head around because it moves the muscles around your shoulder and I’ll end up stitching it weird.”

“Right...” He inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly as he waited for the sharp prick of the needle. The first thing he felt was the burn of the antiseptic liquid and he yelped in surprise, almost flinching out of the way. Naya was focused, casting him a quick look of annoyance before she dived in with the needle and thread. Murdoc was surprised at how little he could feel of it. She worked quickly, pulling the thread through before tying off each spot. Once the front of his shoulder had been dealt with, she motioned him to scoot around so his back was to her. He probably hadn’t sat there more than five minutes before she was tossing some more of that Christ-awful liquid onto the now stitched up wounds and slapping some dressing onto them. As he turned himself, he watched as she tied the ends of the scarf and flung it over his head, using the loop to cradle the arm. He had to roam around in a rainbow tie-dyed sling? Might as well just put a reflective vest on his arse at this point. “Do I really have to use this thing as a sling?” he grumbled. “Any other colors in there we can use? I don’t exactly feel like being a walking Pride advert!”

“Nothing long enough,” she said with a shrug. “Besides, why not? You talk about people shoving you into boxes and just wanting to be yourself, right? Well, now’s your chance!”

Murdoc’s mouth fell open, his thoughts scrambling to come up with a retort of some kind. Just because he was proud of who he was didn’t mean he was all about flaunting rainbows and shit. That was for the social justice warriors, which he most certainly was not! Unable to think of a response, he grumbled under his breath as he opened up the bottle of Percocets, taking two. Thank Satan he had a reasonably high tolerance. Any other person would be useless within forty minutes. Not him. He had taken three to four at a time when back pain got the better of him, so two for a shot shoulder should be enough to take the edge off of the pain and allow him to still function.

Naya went back to packing up some bags and Murdoc eventually joined, doing the best he could with only one arm. Christ, hopefully he wouldn’t be maimed for life. He needed both arms operational if he expected to continue to make a living with music. Naya stressed to take only what was necessary and had scowled at him standing there with his suitcase almost bursting at the seams and a few smaller bags stuffed to the brim with toiletries, souvenirs and his precious pharmaceuticals. She opened her mouth, a strange sound escaping before she closed it, finally shaking her head. “Whatever, man, you’re carrying that shit.”

“The hell I am!” he barked, looking over into the lounge. “Oi, Cyborg! Get your metal arse in here!”

It crossed the short distance in a brisk walk, stopping just a foot or so before him. “What are your orders, sir?”

He chucked the suitcase towards it and then passed over the two smaller bags. “Carry this shit for me, will you lovey?”

Naya’s serious expression melted into a weird smirk. “You are something else, dude...something else. Laziest fucker I ever met!”

“I have better ways of expelling pent up energy.” He emphasized this with a few hip thrusts, wagging his eyebrows. “Shame we don’t have time for a quick shag...”

“We’re about to run for our lives and you’re thinking about fucking?” She looked absolutely furious now. Enough so that he flinched back when she turned to him, mouth little more than a thin line. She stared hard at him for what felt like the longest minute of his life and he wondered if she was now reconsidering their little arrangement. She was being paid to keep him alive, not tolerate him. Fucking him had merely been a bonus. After glaring daggers, she finally took a few deep breaths and tossed her own bag at him. “Carry this, you useless asshole.”

He barely managed to catch the thing with his good arm. They still had to wrangle the blasted cat. No way was he leaving the little shit behind. At least get him in his damned kennel and then strap him to the Cyborg’s back. Naya apparently was thinking ahead, already on her belly and reaching beneath and bed. She surfaced with the black and white furball and quickly shoved him into his kennel. Commence non stop yowling! Christ, what a cock up this was turning out to be. He stood there like a bloody fool as Naya traveled around the room to gather any last minute items. What more could he do? He was holding her bag and the Cyborg was holding all of his bags plus the fucking cat. How did they plan to escape? Wouldn’t it make sense to have the Cyborg primed and ready for a fight?

He couldn’t let these thoughts get under his skin. He needed his head together in order to be able to get out of this in one piece. She’d saved his arse twice now. She must have been some kind of warped guardian angel of sorts. And both times she’d saved him, he’d been moments away from being dead. The Frenchman back at his old condo and now the two fucking stooges she’d taken out on the beach. Hardly broke a sweat from it. Now she was preparing to save his hide again. Judging by the room and the expression on her face, she’d managed to gather what she saw as important. He did a quick cursory check of himself and sighed with some relief that his wallet was still in his pocket. Sandals were tossed his way and soon they were moving as one towards the door. He thought he could hear some noises on the other side. The sounds of running, sounds of panic.

Naya clearly heard them too, now pulling the gun from the back of her pants. She said nothing, ear pressed to the door as more sounds of chaos unfolded on the other side of the wood. He did the same, hearing heavy footsteps and hard barking voices echoing through the halls, telling people to clear out. Doors being smashed about. Holy fuck, they weren’t sure what room he was in, were they? Just like at the condo – successfully finding his location but unable to pinpoint his exact whereabouts. Naya turned the knob slowly, pulling open the door without a sound. He opened his mouth to speak, but she brought her hand up and pinched his lips closed., her own voice barely above a hoarse whisper. “Do. Not. Talk.” All he could do was obey, as much as that word triggered him. Obey. The anarchist in him howled and flailed against the concept. Murdoc Niccals didn’t obey. He did what he wanted, when he wanted. But he was faced with only a few choices in this moment. Naya had the training to get them out of this alive. She knew what she was doing. He, on the other hand, would have fucked up and gotten himself killed long before now if it wasn’t for her. Taking a breath, he exhaled slowly and waited for her cue. If he had any hope of getting out of here, he needed to stick with her and do as she said.

She opened the door slowly and peered out. He remained just behind her, trying to slow his rapid breathing when they heard some gunfire open up from some hallway far from where they were. Silently, she gestured for him to follow and they moved out of the room as one, the Cyborg just behind him. Hunter wasn’t getting the memo about silence and continued to howl against being in the kennel. He’d done so well when they first had escaped the condo, so why decided to make a scene now? Murdoc turned towards the cat, peering through the grate at the very unhappy looking feline. “Can you not?” he hissed. The cat merely yowled in response, which earned him a narrow eyed look from Naya. He initially thought they were moving towards the lift, but she veered down a random hallway away from the lifts. Murdoc kept looking back behind them, wanting to question just where they were going. “Err...love...the lifts are back that way.”

“Not going to the lifts,” she said firmly. “Taking the stairs.” He wasn’t sure he was in the mood to travel down ten flights of stairs. He preferred getting his exercise in other methods. He shook his head, realizing that he wasn’t left with much choice in the matter. She continued forward, finally stopping at the end of a hall he’d never been down. The doors were closer together and sprinkled with more maintenance doors in between. Must be some of the smaller rooms. Directly across from them was a heavy looking door. Directly above it, a sign that boldly proclaimed STAIRS. After glancing left and then right, she tugged at his good arm and darted across, pushing open the door with her body and waving for he and Cyborg to go through. “Hurry,” she hissed. “Don’t have much time!”

He lingered in the stairwell with the heavily burdened Cyborg just at his left, waiting as Naya darted in and started heading down the stairs. Could be worse, he reasoned. They could be going up. He probably would have keeled over from a heart attack if she tried dragging him up the final three flights to the roof. They began their descent slowly and quietly, Murdoc silently thanking the universe that Hunter finally decided to shut the fuck up. Last thing they needed was the blasted feline giving away their location. He kept his eyes on Naya as they traveled down the steps, managing to pass a few floors before she abruptly stopped and held up her hand. He peered around, wondering what made her decide to stop. He could hear a lot of commotion far down below and even more sounds from the other side of the door that led to whatever floor they’d stopped on. She leaned toward the rails, peering downward. Murdoc followed suit, catching sight of bodies running up the stairs far below them. Mixed voices, accents and languages he couldn’t quite make out. “Now what?” he asked in a whisper, looking over at her.

Naya reefed open the door to the floor, ushering them through. “We need to find a way out of this building before they trap us.” No point stating the fucking obvious. Even he knew they needed to get the hell out of here. If there were Clouds down below and Clouds on their floor, just what the hell was the escape plan? She seemed to consider this carefully as she closed the door to the stairs. “There’s bound to be a vacant room...”

“Don’t tell me we’re just gonna hide out like a pack of scared rats!” he barked. What the hell was she thinking? Medusa and the Clouds were kicking in doors on damned near every fucking floor and she wanted to hide out in some narrow econo-suite with hopes they don’t get discovered? It was insanity!

“Just do as I say and shut up!” she snapped back, glaring furiously at him. “I swear on Christ himself, man, if you don’t shut the fuck up for more than five goddamned minutes, I will shoot you myself!”

Murdoc clamped him mouth shut with a growl, feeling his agitation rise. Reason said to do as she demanded but since when did Murdoc Fucking Niccals bow down and do what he was told? And though he was irritated, he couldn’t help but observe how different her demeanor was. Harder, colder and very no-nonsense. Not even when she’d saved his arse the first time had she been this rough. Was this the real Naya he was seeing or the soldier she’d once been? She said she’d been in the service but never mentioned if she’d actually been deployed overseas to do battle. He knew little about American military outside of what he’d seen in movies, so all he could picture was a shapeless and near genderless Naya packaged in combat garb as she busted through door after door in some hot desert wasteland village. Seeing this beautiful woman clad in light cotton capris, flowing tank top with her hair piled up high atop her head looking so sure of herself and confident was enough for Murdoc to feel the blood rush south. Tough women had always been a hell of a turn on for him. No time for stiffies, mate, he messaged silently in an effort to will himself down. Fucking could come later once they were in the clear.

People were still running through the halls, scattering about in their efforts to evacuate. The trio remained mostly pressed to the walls as they slunk down the hallways. If he strained his ears, he could hear the chaos unfolding both above and below them. Naya appeared to be looking around almost frantically, veering them down a darkened hall. Had someone killed the lights? Murdoc peered up at the ceiling. Half of the floor was lit up with half of it dark. This probably wasn’t a good sign. No sir, it sure wasn’t. If they were smart, they would get the fuck off this resort. Rather hard to do at the moment with the upper floors invaded and lower floors apparently invaded as well. The Clouds had breached the building and were hoping to hit both ends in an effort to trap him. Well good luck with that, laddies! Rather hard to get to him when he was in the company of such a fit bodyguard. Granted, they were essentially trapped, weren’t they? Stuck on what he assumed was the seventh floor with Clouds below and Clouds above. Holing up in one of the empty rooms didn’t necessarily appeal to him, but if push came to shove, he could have the Cyborg ditch its bellhop duties and arm itself. Hell, the Cyborg alone could be strong enough and have enough firepower on hand to hold the Clouds off for hours if needed, especially if he and Naya had to make a retreat.

Up ahead, he could see a door left ajar and Naya was inching towards it, peering her head in briefly before gesturing at he and the Cyborg to follow. Once inside the room, she was quick to secure the door. Murdoc looked around realizing it had been an occupied room – if the open half packed suitcase and line up of family sandals were any indication. The residents had evacuated in a hurry, probably some hapless and clueless family on holiday. Naya went through the room from top to bottom before finally venturing out to the narrow balcony. Murdoc watched with curiosity as she threw a leg over and disappeared over the rails. What the hell was she playing at? Murdoc peered over the rails and spotted her standing on the balcony below. “What the hell, Naya?” he barked, frowning down at her.

“It’s safe,” she said, waving him towards her. “Come down!”

A strange humorless laugh erupted from him. “The hell I am!” he snapped with a shake of his head. She was fucking mental to think he was going to shimmy his narrow arse over the balcony seven fucking floors up! “You’re fucking mental!”

Naya’s brow twitched in her irritation as she continued to peer back up at him. “Cyborg! Drop the luggage down to me!” Murdoc felt himself shoved aside as the Cyborg did as it was ordered, slinging the bags over the rails and managing to drop it right into Naya’s arms, even poor Hunter in his little kennel carrier, now yowling loudly as he was dropped down and caught by Naya. It remained on the balcony, looking down at Naya. Naya looked around and then back up at them. “Cyborg, your Master is in danger and he needs to get down here! Drop him down!”

“Now wait a fucking minute!” he barked, his gaze shooting to the Cyborg who was now approaching him with its arms out. He batted the hands away, squawking and barking at it. “No, I said no! What’s your primary objective!”

“Protect Murdoc Niccals, Master Bass Player and God,” it stated flatly, grabbing one of his arms and the back of his shirt. “The Master is in danger and we cannot safely leave this room through the exit. Alternative exit must be used.”

Still squawking, Murdoc felt the ground leave his feet as the Cyborg hauled him off the ground and suddenly the car park was straight down, little ants he identified as people were rushing back and forth. His stomach sunk, everything reeling in his vision as the Cyborg held him over the rails some seven floors up. His squawks turned to shrill screams as everything blurred and veered sideways and he squeezed his eyes shut now certain it would lose its grip on him and he’d plummet to his death. “Put me down!” he screeched, feeling himself fling downward. “No, no, no! Not like this!” He flailed through the air, still half sputtering and half screaming, his eyes locked on the ground below. What little food he’d managed to eat threatened to come forward, bringing the barely digested pain pill with it, and he could taste the bile in the back of his throat. Tears sprang to his eyes, his voice becoming raspy and hoarse. The grip on his arm was solid and like iron and it fucking hurt now with most of his weight now being supported by that single grip.

Below him, Naya was barking at him to quit kicking at her as she tried to get her arms around his flailing legs. “You’re gonna bring them straight to us if you don’t shut the fuck up!”

“Don’t let me go, you Heavy Metal Bitch!” he shrieked up at the Cyborg.

Glancing downward, he groaned at the sight of the now heavily populated car park. People were lingering around and looking up. Still many floors up. Still certain death if Cyborg released him. Naya was still barking at him, her arms now around his legs. As if this humiliating spectacle couldn’t get any worse, he realized too late that he’d lost control of his facilities and Naya was almost howling at him. “You fucking pissed yourself? Are you serious with me now, dude!” She still held his legs firmly, reaching up. “Cyborg, let his pissy ass go! I’ve got him!”

Cyborg released his arm on the command and he felt himself flailing backwards. Shrieking at the top of his lungs, he felt himself begin to plummet and frantically looked around him as the balcony rails he’d been half balanced on were now flying upward as he dropped. Naya’s arms were suddenly around his waist and she was hauling him over the rail of the balcony she’d been standing on. Murdoc collapsed at her feet, half sobbing and weakly reaching for his suitcase. He was only dully aware of her still verbally chastising him. Every part of him felt weak and rubbery, his shorts soaked and realizing in those moments he was going to need to shower before changing because the sudden drop decided to spook his bowels on top of it all. Christ, this was fucking humiliating. Screaming like a fucking school-girl all while pissing and shitting himself in his fright. Naya went silent, staring at him as he weakly gathered a fresh pair of shorts and underwear from the suitcase. No doubt she realized what had happened. The slider leading into the unit was open, probably another family that had left in a hurry.

The Cyborg landed soundlessly behind him and began to collect the luggage. Murdoc merely shuffled his way through the suite towards the bathroom. Get cleaned up, fresh pair of underthings and shorts and then work on getting the hell out of here. No more near-death experiences, though. His poor old heart couldn’t take something like that again, to say nothing of his bladder and bowels! He ran the shower as hot as he dared, stripping away the soiled clothing and almost collapsing into the tiled shower stall. From the room itself, he could hear Naya finally erupting into near-hysterical laughter. This was not even remotely funny! The cheeky tart! He allowed the hot water to wash away the humiliation, grumbling under his breath as the laughter continued out in the main suite. Maybe he should drop her from the balcony and see how fast she lost control of herself? Bitch. How the hell was him almost dying so fucking funny? There was nothing funny about the world nearly losing the one and only Niccals. Sure, he’d finally be lifted to saint status in the music world, but what good was that when you’re not alive to see it?

Stepping out of the tiled stall, he dressed himself as quickly as his still shaking body would allow. He could still hear chaos unfolding outside of the room. It was a much smaller suite and there was a good chance they wouldn’t even check this room because all the big luxury suites were on the ninth and tenth floor of the resort. The Clouds knew Niccals’ habits well enough to know he wouldn’t bother with some dinky little economy suite. From the other side of the closed bathroom door, he could also hear Naya going over something with the Cyborg. Some kind of battle plan, he gathered. The door opened abruptly, Naya emerging barely a few feet from him suddenly with a massive toothy grin on her face, slapping something into his hand before cackling maniacally and pulling the door shut. “In case you have another accident, Niccals!” He blearily looked down at what she’d hurriedly handed him, his brow furrowing at the realization it was a pair of Depends.


	11. Laying Low

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: SEXUAL THEMES, DRUG REFERENCES

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Sorry this took so long and is so anti-climatic. Had a lot going on in the background that really put the brakes on this story for several weeks. Hoping to get back into the swing of things.

They finally managed to find a ragged little hole in the wall motel several blocks down the road. How long they could remain there safely was unknown, but Naya felt confident enough that they could at least get a few nights out of it and then move on from there. Murdoc had no fucking idea what time it was and after a near death experience, an adrenaline dump and then the humiliation of losing control of his facilities during that near-death mishap, all he wanted to do was fucking collapse. He lay on the single queen sized bed with Hunter curled up against him as he lazily scratched behind the ears. Poor little bastard was probably feeling just like him in those moments. Bounced around in his kennel, dropped from a balcony and Satan knows what else. Murdoc was beyond exhausted and all he wanted to do was close his eyes and sleep the night away. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt this wiped out. Every part of him felt weak and heavy. If he closed his eyes now, he’d nod off and probably sleep a week. Naya would have to carry his arse.

Speaking of Naya, she was sitting at the end of the bed with nothing but a towel around her. She’d said nothing further on his earlier humiliations and he was pretty thankful for that. He didn’t want to think about those moments, realizing that more than a scream had let loose. Christ, the last time he’d lost control of his facilities had probably been childhood. Hopefully the family staying in that suite they’d invaded didn’t mind the soiled clothing left in the shower stall. It was behind him now and as long as Naya didn’t bring it up, he could forget about it and move on. Other than her initial jokes in the wake of that spectacle, she’d said nothing more. No doubt she’d been dying to get another crack or two in, but given the fact that they’d been running for their lives, jokes were on short supply. Thank Satan for the small miracles, eh?

He did realize that a t some point, they needed to go over what their next step was.  Getting off the islands was now paramount. Could always have the Cyborg head back to Big Island and retrieve where he had hidden the sub. It was risky because the Clouds would be monitoring the waters. He’d heard about their random attacks on cruise ships and even military submarines. They were willing to attack anything spotted in the water if they thought he was on board.  Taking the sub meant days underwater and having to resurface to empty the port-o-potty and get some fresh air. Those moments at the water’s surface would be the most dangerous, completely exposed to anything flying overhead.  The odds of being located were small, but he knew the Clouds were tenacious and would scour the water between the islands and the mainland if they had any inkling he’d bounced the fuck out of Hawaii.  They were probably already flying over the ocean blue in their hunt for him.  They’d been doing that before locating him on the junk island. Noodle had appeared with Russel and he’d found out she had been on a cruiseliner that had been attacked by the pirates. They didn’t care what they shot at, every single thing bouncing around in the waves was a potential Niccals.

As if she could read his mind, Naya spoke up suddenly, breaking him away from his exhausted thoughts. “We may have to catch a plane.”

“Dunno about that, love,” he said with a shake of his head. “Not a fan of flying.”

She raised a single eyebrow, her mouth slowly curling into a small smile. “You toured the globe for years... surely you took a plane! ”

“Usually wasted,” he pointed out as he rolled to his back and stretched. “Look, think of something else that doesn’t involve me boarding a metal death trap.”  He didn’t want to get into the details and hoped she wouldn’t press. He had never been able to stomach flying. First time on a plane had sent him into a spiraling panic attack that it had led to both Russ and Dents holding him down and giving him a shot in his  arse . Everything faded into oblivion from there and he later found out it had been a basic sedative the plane kept on hand for unruly passengers. Of course, he would never fully admit that he had a massive phobia of flying. Hard phobia to have with his line of work. So it just made sense to make sure he was  doped to the gills before boarding so he could sleep  or simply space out through the worst of it. Russ and Stu found it hilarious that their supposedly fearless leader basically shat himself whenever faced with having to board a plan e. At least they saved their ribbing for when it was just them and not around fans or even young Noodle.

Fuck, he actually missed them both.  They were useful bits of entertainment when he needed it. This brought him back around to the fact that he had yet to find Russel. He’d had the Cyborg put out feelers for any word of a large American man with white eyes and killer drum skills, but so far not a word. Murdoc had started to fear that maybe Russ had died during the pirate attack and this made him a million times more reluctant to ever reach out to Stu and Noods because they most like ly – and justif ia bl y – blamed him for the man’s death.  Maybe being chased down like a scared fox by the Clouds was his karma? Seemed fitting since he’d abandoned people he had considered friends and family when they’d probably needed him the most.  He’d never been a fighter, though. Sure, he could bluff his way through most situations and had  even  held guns on people in the past, but when it came to actually having to take someone on  through a physical fight , he  was useless unless he knew he had some kind of advantage.  It has always been his way.  If he couldn’t bluff, talk or threaten to get out of it, he had no time for it.

He frowned, unseen by Naya as he continued to scratch behind Hunter’s ears.  Perhaps one of these days, he could do something as a peace offering. Something to let them know he was sorry. He didn’t expect their forgiveness, but at least  let them  know that he’d never intended for any of them to get hurt. Stu would never forgive, not after what Murdoc had done to the lad during the two years they’d been hiding out on the island. Kept captive, beaten into submission, forced to record the Plastic Beach album. Murdoc had written so many fucking songs for that.  He’d had poor Dents singing for nearly a year straight because he’d insisted on getting demos of all the tracks.  Then he had to figure out what stayed and what would go.  Narrowing over eighty tracks down to the fifteen, twenty or so that ended up on the album itself had been a nightmare!  Though Murdoc had been coked up, paranoid and losing his fucking mind, his songwriting had been solid gold.  Deciding which would go on the album and which would be lost to eternity had been such a difficult decision. And  Stu’s vocals  had  only made them more precious.  No point getting overly sentimental over them. They’d been stored in the lighthouse radio tower and that had been destroyed during the pirate attack. Sixty plus tracks that could have been used on a B side album or future Gorillaz studio albums lost in a fireball when the Clouds had attacked  his precious island and demolished the lighthouse.

He flashed a tired smile when Naya shed the towel and stretched the length of the vacant side of the bed.  Hunter apparently decided three was a crowd and promptly darted from the bed, laying claim to a cushioned chair near the telly.  Naya wrinkled her nose. “Oh, I see how he is!” She was trying to sound hurt, but the weird little smirk on her face gave away the jest of her remark. She got herself comfortable, laying flat on her back much like he was, her gaze now on the ceiling above. Murdoc didn’t mind one bit seeing she was completely starkers and it allowed him a chance to look her over some more. He never tired of that, really. Even if their arrangement was purely a friend with bennies situation, he wasn’t one to shy away from admiring a human body. Especially good looking ones. He enjoyed how her skin tone changed in all the little areas of her body. Dark nipples that were almost black, soft and curled patch of dark reddish hair down below, his favorite bits a little lighter, but not by much.  She probably had more muscle mass than he could ever hope for, but it looked perfect on her and wasn’t even overly done. Definition in her arms, legs, even nicely sculpted muscles on her stomach. 

“ So how do you plan to leave the island then?” she asked suddenly, now looking directly at him. “The only feasible way out of here is by plane.”

“Boat,” he replied with a toothy grin.  Sure, it might be risky, but he’d rather be somewhere he could safely fall from versus thousands of miles in the air. If the boat is attacked, he could jump into the water. A plane malfunctioning or being attacked only had a thread of hope the pilots could land the beast without losing control. Still didn’t guarantee you wouldn’t lose half your passengers in the process.

“ And where will we get a boat?” she asked with raised eyebrows. “Gonna have to get over that little hiccup about flying, Niccals. There are no commercial boats taking us to mainland.”

“Could nick one from the docks,” he suggested, still smiling. He thought that was a perfectly feasible plan. He was still sharp enough to know how to get a quick five finger discount. Even when back in Hilo, he’d nicked things now and again just to keep the skills polished. A boat wasn’t a big ask. There was always some sorry schmuck who left their boat at the docks with the keys still on board. Too fucking trusting. Assuming the gates and security locks could keep out the shady elements. He could probably still hop a gate if necessary.

Naya shook her head, trying not to laugh. “Whatever, dude. You’d throw your hip trying to break into the docks!” When he responded with a huff, she finally broke down, laughing almost hysterically on the bed. He opened his mouth to offer a retort, but abruptly clamped it shut. No point trying to argue, yeah? Besides, he knew he wasn’t as nimble as he’d once been. Though he was confident he could climb the gate at the docks, there was still a small chance he’d hurt himself. He was forty-six, not twenty-six. Last time he ever had to hop a fence of any kind was probably well over a decade ago. And if memory served him correctly, he’d landed wrong and tweaked his ankle.

Her laughter tapered off when noises from outside caught both their attention. Though she was mostly confident that they were safe, he knew there were still small risks involved. The Clouds were most likely still kicking in doors at the resort in the hunt for him and had no idea he’d high-tailed it out of there. There was still a minuscule chance they’d been followed. They could both see shadows and movement just outside the window with sprinkles of laughter. Just some kids enjoying summer break. Willing to risk their sleek new cars Mum and Dad got for them by holing up in a cheap and sketchy motel straight out of a horror flick. Gotta make sure every extra cent is used for booze, drugs and hookers, right?

This little motel was as cheap as they came. Less than a hundred bucks a night, which was a steal on a small island that was essentially one massive tourist trap. And a cheap motel meant out of date interior with maybe some half arsed decent furnishings (but not a guarantee). He’d slept in his fair share of dives. This place was no different. Hell, the first place he’d ever been able to call his own had been a single room flat. Few hundred square feet at best. Not much bigger than this very room. Talk about flashback, mates. Granted, this room had a few more creature comforts. The bed was pretty comfy, which he could admit was a surprise. Usually these little dumps were complete scrooges with the purse strings and sprang for the cheapest mattresses one could find. Obviously not this place. Cushiony pillow top that served its purpose, especially if you weren’t staying more than a few nights. Nice little bedside tables with lamps screwed down with bolts (this made him laugh). The telly was a bit dated, but functional. Hunter clearly didn’t seem to mind, dozing peacefully on the chair. The walls were originally that ghastly wood paneling. Testimony to the era this place had originally been built, but painted over numerous times. He could just make out the texture of the paneling. Probably on it’s fourth or fifth coat at this point. Another five coats and there wouldn’t be any part of the old paneling left visible.

It had been a long fucking night. Though Murdoc was exhausted from getting tossed from balconies and soiling himself in the process, having Naya just laying naked beside him got other thoughts and mechanisms running at full speed. Uncaring of his audience, he shimmied his briefs away and began to stroke himself slowly, maintaining eye contact with her as he did so. “You should play with yourself,” he mumbled, a sigh escaping from him as he increased the pressure of his hand.

“Are you ever _not_ horny?” she asked through a laugh.

“No.” He let out a small hum, still massaging and gripping his cock. Get on with it, little chickie. Watch each other get off. He was too exhausted to do much else anyway. She rolled slowly so she was facing him, finally moving her hand down to her soft little downy patch. He felt his breath hitch when her hand slid between her thighs, a soft moan erupting from her. He kept his eyes on her hand, applying more pressure with each stroke of his hand. Her hips jerked with each movement of her hand, her moans little more than soft sighs. She was getting nice and into it and he fancied he could see the flush to her skin as she worked her hand harder. He raised his eyes up to her face, watching her brow twitch as another moan erupted from her. Fuck, this was hot. Never could go wrong with some good old fashioned stroking. He huffed through a moan of his own, trying to maintain eye contact with her as she writhed against her hand. Judging by the quickened breath and flush to her cheeks, she would be reaching her peak any moment. He increased the pressure and frequency of his strokes, feeling the familiar sensations that told him his own release wouldn’t be too far off. Watching as she jerked roughly back, almost whimpering as she continued to press and move her hand nearly did him in and he started stroking himself quicker and firmer, half gasping and half panting. Release hit like a lorry, everything around him fading into oblivion, vague awareness of wetness on his knuckles. He rode through the climax as much as he could, his hips pumping with a mind of their own. Somewhere in the static of his consciousness, he could hear her whimpering through her own climax. He focused on the sounds of her voice as he came down, the static in his head receding and slowly revealing her smiling face mere inches from his. Eyes half mast, he cracked a sleepy smile. “See, it was hot...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_He was conscious of the fact that he was dreaming, but he wasn’t complaining one bit. Laying in his old bed back in the Winnebago, surrounded by three lovely and soft things. He must have been feeling adventurous because he’d apparently picked a red-head, a blonde and a brunette. Their faces triggered familiarity but were mostly fuzzy and unfocused. Maybe they’d been a pack of groupies that followed the band around during the Demon Days tour? He couldn’t remember anymore. The red-head was currently worshiping his cock while the blonde was working on a nipple. He had the breasts of the brunette in his mouth. Everything was going quite nice. The red-head wasn’t very well versed on how to suck a cock, but her gentle – if not slobbery – touch still felt pretty fucking good. He could roll with this. He was rock hard and their light, feathery touches sent goosebumps across his body. The red-head on his cock was doing some pretty interesting things with her tongue now and he heard the groan escape from him as he let his head fall back into the pillows. This was too glorious to stop now. Don’t wake up._

_A distant thud from somewhere he couldn’t see_ _made the dream orgy shimmer in his vision. He frowned, teeth caught on the brunette’s nipple as he waited for things to fall back into proper place. Red-head was still slobbering over his cock, blonde was still doing some interesting things to his nipples and the brunette was damned near squirting when he rolled her nipple between his tongue and teeth. Should shove them together and have them ravish each other. Would make for an interesting show, eh? Winner gets to ride his cock. But fuck it all, the woman’s mouth felt sooo good! He was losing focus on the perky nipples in his mouth. Did he say something to the brunette? He wasn’t sure. Seemed like he did. She was now positioning herself between the legs of the blonde. When the blonde nipped at one of his nipples just a tad too hard, he almost yelped._ _Oooh, nice, the brunette was eating the blonde as if she were her last meal. Far out, get on that! And the red-head was working his cock harder now and he could feel all sorts of good feelings ripple through him. He was going to cum soon if she kept bobbing on his cock like this. Maybe for the best because once he had a chance to recover, he could tackle these beautiful things and have the stamina to have all three of them cumming their brains out before he’d even be close to finished._

_“Oh fuck yes,” he panted, reaching his hands down towards the red-head. Her hair was soft and fine. She was swallowing down every fucking inch too and he started thrusting his hips. To hell with the other two, this one would be the winner. C’mon now, harder. Suck and compress when you pull your head up. Tongue action when you dive back down. Ooohhh, sweet sugary Beelzebub, yesssss......._

He was cumming. Half hissing and half groaning, he thrust up as the wet heat came down and clamped around him. He wasn’t dreaming. He’d had enough erotic dreams in his life to recognize when he was really blowing and _this_ was very real. Though he was now very aware of the dingy little motel room around him, he tried desperately to hold onto the image of the little red-head on his cock. In those moments as he blinked awake, he realized there really was something warm, wet and wonderful on his cock. Scanning around the room, he slowly gazed down, spying something beneath the blankets. He reached out a shaking hand and pulled away the blankets. Naya lay between his splayed legs, his now partially limp cock in her hand. Murdoc cocked an eyebrow, half grinning at her. “So I _really_ did have a gorgeous red-head swallowing my cock.”

“So that’s what you were dreaming about!” she laughed as she got to her feet. “Your moans and stroking your cock were sort of a give-away...You always dream about fucking?”

“Eugh...often enough.” He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and slowly sat up, his face cracking into a broad and toothy smile. “And by all means, don’t ever hesitate to join in when it looks like I’m having a bit of fun. Always room for one more.”

Morning light seeped through the slats of the cheap blinds and the telly was on with what looked like a morning news program. Lots of chatter about the terrorist invasion of the resort. One or two taken into custody, three killed, several police officers shot and numerous civilian casualties and injuries. Murdoc wasn’t sure how to feel about this. While part of him pointed out that he shouldn’t give a damn about others being hurt, a much smaller part of him kept pointing out that those hurt had gotten hurt because of him. If the Clouds hadn’t been hunting for him, the other patrons of the resort and the handful of police officers would be alive and unharmed. Numerous people had been hurt or killed in the hunt for him. The Clouds didn’t give a damn how much attention they brought to themselves. They happily slaughtered anyone in their path. They would have done it even if not hunting for him.

He shook away the thoughts as he lazily slid out of bed to dress himself. Naya was dressed already and once again, he found himself surprised at how easily she could shift and change as needed. Plain skinny jeans with boots and a plain t-shirt. Assassin mode, he thought to himself with a weird smirk. They’d be checking out of this hole in the wall soon and had to figure out their next move. Could bounce off to another resort or skanky roadside motel. It would buy them a little bit of time. The problem they were facing at the moment was the fact that the island they were on was much smaller, mostly tourist attractions and resorts and if the Clouds caught their scent again and again, they’d run out of places to hide. Murdoc wasn’t too gung ho about hopping a plane. He’d much rather take control of a nice yacht and just travel the ocean for a spell. Sure, they’d be a moving target if the Black Clouds decided to go airborne and patrol the waters, but he felt much safer on a fucking boat than an airplane.

He really didn’t want to be bothered with these stresses. Though it certainly wasn’t fair to burden Naya with all the technicalities, he just couldn’t be arsed to concern himself with it. Much easier to let someone else figure shit out and he’d go along with it if it kept his arse alive. He was still a bit put off at the fact that he was relying on a woman to keep him alive. His inner misogynist was crying foul, but he had few options on the table for alternatives – none that would guarantee his safety and life anyway – so he was left with little choice in the matter. Besides, she was a helluva shag and he wasn’t about to pass up on some wild and willing tail, even if she was some weird Yankee mercenary. He had to recognize that he had it pretty good at this point. No strings attached fucking whenever the mood seized them and she was armed to the teeth and well trained in taking out any slag trying to get within a mile of him. Dropping her like a hot coal due to ego getting in the way wasn’t a smart move, especially given the current climate.

He examined his still sleepy looking face briefly in the mirror before splashing some cold water onto it. The shock of the cold felt blessedly good against his skin. He needed a smoke and a cup of coffee. Something solid would probably be a good thing too. These little dive motels never offered any kind of free breakfast so they would have to track down a diner or a small market. A fat omelet sounded pretty fucking divine right about now. Something cheesy, greasy and loaded with meat and veg. He shaved quickly and tossed on a t-shirt with a pair of shorts. At least the dive provided a small single cup coffee maker, but that appeared to be one of the only amenities this hovel offered. There were probably twenty eateries within walking distance from this place. “Dunno about you, Naya,” he said as he stepped out of the bathroom, “but I could use a bite to eat and more than one cup of coffee. You game for breakfast? My treat.”

Naya was resting back on the bed with the cat curled on her chest. “We really should be figuring out an exit strategy, Murdoc.” She nudged the cat away – who slinked away with a rather displeased mewing sound – and slowly raised herself up from the bed to peer through the slats of the blinds. “I guess it’s still early enough. But we really need to figure out how we plan on getting out of here.”

After slamming down a half a cup of java and giving the Cyborg strict orders to remain in the room, they ventured off across the car park in search of a diner. Murdoc was fairly certain there was one close by because he could just smell the grease and maple syrup in the air. Naya seemed quite impressed with this skill, citing allergies for her inability to smell much beyond the morning air and salt water from the ocean near-by. He sniffed at the air like a dog, trying to pin point the exact direction the food smells were coming from, finally lighting himself a cigarette and pointing off to his right. Naya took her own cigarette and lit it, exhaling loudly in the morning air. As long as it wasn’t a long walk, he could manage. The food smells weren’t faint enough to be from too far away. A block or two away at the most.

The smells appeared to be coming from the first diner they stumbled across. It was a low slung single level building with a shingled exterior. If not for the glowing neon _DINER_ sign in the window, Murdoc would have assumed it was little more than an office of some kind. Naya did seem a bit on edge and he assumed this was because they were out in the open in broad daylight. They knew what he looked like and knew he had someone with him. They probably did stick out like a sore fucking thumb. Whatever, he wasn’t in the mood to think about any of that shit. He just wanted some food before they figured out their next steps. Naya still thought a plane was the way to go and he kept pointing out that watercraft would be safer. They would probably continue to argue about this until the end days.

The interior of the diner was dark and there was a faint musty smell in the air. The waitress seated them at a booth right by one of their fogged and filthy windows. Murdoc looked around with raised eyebrows, now unsure of their choice of eatery. A place like this could trigger a zombie apocalypse. It actually kind of reminded him of the old cafeteria back at Kong. Grease everywhere, filthy windows, a cook who looked like he doubled as a bouncer for down the street and grimy tables that looked like they hadn’t been updated since Murdoc was just a kid. But such places had a strange charm that even the pickiest of eaters loved and adored. Kids nowadays loved these hole in the wall places. He saw a filthy eatery with questionable health code situations but the pack of twenty year olds sitting four booths away saw a glittering establishment that was testimony to times gone by.

Naya wrinkled her nose as the grimy state of their table and even the menus plopped down between them. He could almost hear her disgust as she sighed and opened up a menu. Places like this attracted him like a moth to flame. Perfectly disgusting and disheveled and allowed him to blend in perfectly with the other ragged looking sods hoping to get a few cups of coffee and whatever breakfast special the joint was offering. Murdoc opened up his own menu and scanned through the different dishes the diner had to offer. Most of it was classic American fare. Biscuits and gravy (couldn’t pay him to eat that shit), a dish of eggs, bacon and shredded hash browns (keep that one in mind), steak and eggs (want to risk it?), chicken fried steak with eggs and the same shredded hash browns (he did not understand the American desire to batter shit and fry it) and finally, two pages in – omelets! Yes, paydirt. Their advertised omelet special was a fajita style omelet with seasoned steak strips, fried peppers, onions and cheese with some seasoned diced potatoes (called country style potatoes in the menu).

Naya sighed as coffee was placed before her. She closed up the menu and looked over at Murdoc. The poor waitress looked at the two of them with raised eyebrows, her little notepad in hand. Smiling up at her, Naya set the menu aside. “Classic breakfast plate, please. Sunny side up with the eggs and sourdough toast.”

Murdoc set his menu down and went for the now full mug of coffee in front of him. “The fajita omelet sounds good. I’ll go with that.”

“How do you want your toast?” the woman asked, pen scribbling down as if it had a mind of its own.

“Plain wheat, just butter,” he added, watching as she scribbled his order down and then collected their menus. The waitress darted off with their menus and orders, leaving them alone finally. The diner was strangely busy but their booth felt like a world unto itself. High backed cushioned seats that shielded you from the low drone of numerous conversations happening at once. And as luck would fucking have it, he spotted an ashtray tucked off to the side and he realized part of the dingy atmosphere of this little dive had to do with the grey layer of smoke that lingered dead center through the entire place.

Naya wrinkled her nose when he lit himself a cigarette. “I hope you don’t plan on smoking one of those while you’re eating. This place is disgusting enough.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Love, places like this have character. Don’t see them around much anymore. Shame, they can be quite charming.”

“This entire place is a walking health code violation.” She was looking around, wiping at the table with her napkin. “My parents wouldn’t have come within a mile of it.”

“Right...you grew up in middle class harmony.” He smirked when her eyes surfaced from the table, almost glaring daggers at him. “No point denying it, lovey. How you grew up is gonna paint how you see things. Hell, it imprints on you in a way. I know it did for me.”

“I’ve lived in my share of hell-holes, man,” she retorted with a snort. “I’m not some little goody-two-shoes who was super sheltered or anything.”

“No, you’re definitely not.” He took a long drag from the cigarette, exhaling slowly through his nose. “But what I said still stands. Think about it, love. You grew up in a nice little cushy middle class neighborhood with a nice little middle class upbringing. Your parents wouldn’t even fathom taking you into a sketchy little dump like this. They’d take your pampered arse another two blocks down to the fucking IHOP. So deep down, at an almost unconscious level, you would avoid a place like this.” A small chuckle erupted from him. “Now my own upbringing wasn’t ponies and rainbows. Most of the time I was getting dragged around on pub crawls with me Dad. Breakfast was the peanut bowl on the bar counter. Lunch was whatever the kitchen was tossing out into the bins out back. Dinner....what was that? I was lucky if I even got fed by the old bastard. A place like this....Christ, love, a place like this was seen as a luxury to me.”

Naya’s brow twitched, slowly wrinkling as she frowned into her coffee. “Just because I had an easy childhood doesn’t mean I’m pampered. I’ve gone days without eating while being pinned down by enemy fire in some desert death trap. I’ve rationed my last MRE to last days instead of hours. Hell, I’ve given my last two MRE’s to kids who were skin and bones because some insurgent or maybe even one of us blew their entire farm to smithereens and left them with nothing.”

“Life experiences are different,” he pointed out, draining what remained of his coffee. “I just mean all the weird little things we grew up with. You would steer clear of a place like this because your cushy little childhood is too far ingrained into you. Like I said, love, it’s almost unconscious....” He cracked a toothy smile as he stubbed out his cigarette. “Reckon it doesn’t help that movies featuring places like this usually end up having a serial killer cook who ends up turning patrons into the weekday special.”

“I think I remember a cartoon having that exact theme,” she laughed. “Courage the Cowardly Dog...”

“Is it weird I know exactly which cartoon that is?” he asked with a grin. “Noodle loved it. Watched a few episodes with her once. She insisted...thought it would be right up my alley. Not gonna lie, it had some good ones. Pretty bloody dark for a kids programme.”

“You did a lot of things for her that you normally wouldn’t do, didn’t you?” she asked sincerely. “Not just getting wrangled into watching kids shows...”

“Spent the weekend in jail once for smacking the shit out of some handsy little arsehole who made a few too many grabs at her bum.” He fell silent when the waitress appeared with the coffee carafe, refilling both their mugs before darting away again. He gave a half-hearted shrug as he started tearing open sugar packets. “She was maybe thirteen or fourteen at the time...the kid was at least twenty. Actually, I was ticketed or banged up a lot over some of those fans. The neckbeards were the worst...imagine the discomfort of fan meet and greets and finding out this sweaty thirty year old basement dweller who hadn’t seen a shower in a decade professing his love to her and declaring she was his soulmate...fucking disgusting.”

“What about the others?” she asked with raised eyebrows. “Did they do anything?”

“Dents was too chicken shit,” he said with another shrug. “Russ usually tried to talk to them privately, let them know man to man that what they were doing was inappropriate. Tried to save them embarrassing themselves, I reckon...but you can’t reason with pervs like that, ya know? They saw a thirteen year old little girl and had convinced themselves they and they alone had the right to her...right to do things to her....” He shuddered and shook his head. “Only thing beasts like that understand is a good ol’ fashioned head kicking.”

Naya nodded her head. “Not gonna disagree with that, man. I can only imagine the freak shows you guys encountered through the years. Especially with the three of you trying to keep a little girl safe.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Noodle was definitely capable of protecting herself, but she was just a wee kid all the same.” He lit himself a fresh cigarette and stirred cream into his coffee. “We were her guardians. She needed to worry about music and whatever else a girl her age liked at the time, not worry about some knuckle dragging troglodyte two decades her senior putting the moves on her.” Naya nodded again but said nothing further. A strangely comfortable silence passed between them as they nursed their coffees and waited for their food. He pulled out his cell phone and checked through a few random messages. Accountant was asking about whether or not more money needed to be wired in his direction and his agent was frothing at the mouth over his lack of response. He could feel Naya’s eyes on him as he tapped and swiped at the phone to clear out the messages and email alerts. Buried in some of the alerts were more messages from EMI. He frowned at the phone before swiping those away. Looked like he had a few alerts on some hook up apps he used from time to time. Couldn’t even remember the last time he’d used them. The old school method of showing up at a place and simply making yourself available still worked for him most of the time. When the hell had he even added those apps?

The waitress finally arrived with their plates. They said little to one another as they ate their breakfast plates. The fajita omelet was actually pretty fucking good. Needed some hot sauce. Did this joint have any hot sauce that wasn’t fucking Tabasco? He examined the bottles set between them when their food had arrived, catching sight of what appeared to be a bottle of regular hot sauce. He could feel Naya’s stare as he coated the omelet in generous douses of the sauce. “You’re not gonna really eat that with all that sauce, are you?” she asked with raised eyebrows.

“I am,” he said with a shrug, shoveling a massive bite into his mouth. “Wanna bite?” He choked against a laugh when she threw up both hands and shook her head. “Good, more for me then.” He continued to eat, allowing his mind to wander a bit as he chewed and stared out the window. What could they do from here? He knew Naya was right and they’d have to figure out their next steps sooner rather than later. He just wanted a day or two to relax and sort himself out. Enjoy the cheap room, free porn that was included with the telly and maybe smoke a bowl and relax. He was tired of running. Tired of looking over his shoulder. They were miles away from the resort but he knew it would only be a matter of time before The Black Clouds spotted him again and attacked. It took them nearly a fortnight to find him at the resort and with them knowing he was on this christ-forsaken tourist trap island, it would probably be mere days before they located him at the decrepit no-tell motel.

Departing beautiful Hawaii was probably the only way he could escape their radar.


	12. Holding Down the Fort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naya and Murdoc take the time to lay low while the Clouds continue their hunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **should note that this chapter is just filler after I got stuck for months and months, so nothing super exciting. i'm not even sure i like it but i want it out of my hair LOL***

It took Murdoc a long moment to realize he was hearing a distant beeping noise from somewhere beyond his consciousness. He made a noise, slowly crawling from the depths of sleep to wakefulness, recognizing the softness of the sheets and the dim shadows of the small motel room. Something was standing over him at the side of the bed. Something that looked down at him with large eyes that flashed red like some hellish beacon in the night. His first instinct was to scream and lash out, disrupting the quiet early morning and rousing a very upset but confused Naya. He blinked several times, staring at the figure that stood over him, finally realizing it was only the Cyborg. “Christ, you bloody tin bitch, don’t do that!” He could hear Naya grumbling behind him as he sat at the edge of the bed to catch his breath and calm his pounding heart. The Cyborg was still standing a foot or two away, eyes still flashing and that accursed beeping still ringing through the room.

“Holy hell, man, can you shut that thing up?” Naya grumbled, pulling his pillow away and covering her head with it. “We’re supposed to be hiding, not advertising our location to the entire fucking island!”

Murdoc scrubbed his hands across his unshaven face, staring at the Cyborg. “I’m up, I’m up...what do you have for me? It better be bloody good.”

“The location of Russel Hobbs, drummer of Gorillaz, has been established.” The beeping finally subsided and its eyes returned to normal, much to his relief. Perhaps he should have looked into a different way to alert him. Waking up to red flashing eyes with that horrific beeping was fucking nightmare fuel. Hadn’t he originally set it up that way to ensure it woke him, no matter how comatose he was from whatever substance he’d ingested? He couldn’t remember anymore. Most likely the case knowing him. He was a hard sleeper even on his sober days, which were quite few and far between. Still trying to rub the sleep from his eyes, he could hear the familiar but still peculiar noises as the Cyborg’s computerized brain sent the information it collected to his cell phone before speaking again in its strangely flat voice. “Russel Hobbs, drummer of Gorillaz, was last seen in North Korea. No current information.”

“ _Last seen_?” Murdoc raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. “Is this old information? Is he no longer there?” He grabbed his cell phone and pulled up the alert the machine had sent him. Sure enough, there Russel was. Big as ever and trapped in some glass enclosure and surrounded by thousands of people. Christ, they’d turned the poor man into some kind of sodding sideshow attraction! “Any information from when he was in Korea?”

“It appears he was mistaken for some kind of monster, sir,” the Cyborg said flatly. “Over time, he shrunk back to his normal size and was released. Location unknown after that.”

He waited for it to continue as he browsed through the information it had sent to his cell phone. The Cyborg said nothing further and he gritted his teeth against rising irritation. He should have been happy that Russel had popped up on the radar but it troubled him that Russ had vanished once again. If the whole incident in North Korea traumatized him, it could easily be another year or more before he turned up. Last time Russel had gone through trauma during a hiatus, they discovered that he’d been hiding out in Ike Turner’s basement eating hair or some weird shit like that. If – by some stroke of dumb fucking luck – Murdoc, Stu and Noodle managed to reunite for Gorillaz again, would they even be able to find Russel? Christ, what if the man was lost to time? Murdoc was glad his back was to Naya because he didn’t need her needling at his change in expression. The fixed look of concentration had melted to concern and worry. He and Russ had certainly had their share of rows through the years, but he honestly never wished harm on the man nor did he want him to be floating around out there as a traumatized shell. What else could he do, though? Wherever Russel had gone, the man had a head start that could have been days or even weeks by now. Even with its state of the art tracking programs, it could take weeks before the Cyborg tracked the big man down again.

Sighing, he stood up and scrubbed his hands across his face. Might as well get his arse off the bed and up and moving so he could hop in the shower. Naya continued to doze on the bed as he went about fixing up some coffee in the obscenely tiny little coffee maker and then ventured to the narrow little bathroom. Catching sight of his reflection in the mirror as he shed his briefs, he frowned and gingerly touched at the still inflamed and haphazardly stitched bullet wound in his shoulder. The arm seemed to be faring a little better now that it had been a week and a half or so, but it was still sore and it still took some effort to use the hand. Better than nothing at this point. Could have gone considerably worse. He could have faced losing use of his arm if Naya hadn’t been able to stitch him up.

Giving one last glance at the raw looking injury, he finally turned and stepped into the shower, gasping when the hot water hit his skin. He and Naya had been laying low in the motel now for ten days. He had little doubt that Medusa and her band of merry fucking thugs were still crawling around the island in their hunt for him. Sure they were safe for the moment, but he knew it would only be a matter of time before they were flushed out. Not to mention the fact that he was growing increasingly bored sticking around the decrepit little motel. He sighed against the hot stream of water, blearily staring down at his feet. Though it had been a rather energetic and entertaining several weeks with Naya, whoever was paying her to keep him out of trouble might decide enough was enough and want her to move on. He certainly wasn’t admitting to any affection towards the woman, but her companionship had been a nice change of pace for him. Wasn’t often you encountered a fuck buddy that could also be your wingman. Sometimes they’d bring home a third participant and other times they’d simply branch off in their own directions and compare notes once they returned to the motel. She no longer really kept him on a short leash with the blow and he’d been indulging quite freely. He had even managed a two day fuck fest with a pretty fine looking gentleman he’d hooked up with at the local watering hole behind the motel.

He smiled at the not so distant memories. Talk about really feeling his age after that. Back was out of whack, shoulder nagging at him and so fucking dehydrated! Naya hadn’t been very happy when he finally stumbled back to the hotel room reeking of sweat and sex. Apparently she’d been looking all over for him and had gone into panic mode thinking he’d high-tailed it out of there. He’d sent her a quick text message letting her know he’d be busy and unreachable the night he’d hooked up, but never bothered to let her know he’d be holed up with the man for almost forty eight hours. Hell, he hadn’t even anticipated being gone for more than a night but he’d been riding high on good blow and the hard chiseled physique of the man who had dragged him back to his dinky little apartment. The man had given him something and he thought it might have been ecstasy, but he wasn’t too sure. He just knew he’d been flying high off some glorious Colombian marching powder and within a half hour of taking the pill offered, he couldn’t keep his hands off himself or his companion. Mortality sure loves to rear its ugly head when you just want to bask in all the good feelings. Shoulder pain that wasn’t from the fucking gunshot wound and a back that complained more than it probably should were his only souvenirs of that lovely little two day holiday.

He grimaced as he bent his frame backwards from the stream, feeling muscles and bones pull and protest as he stretched. He could hear Naya talking just over the stream of the shower. Was she talking to him? “Oi, you said something, love?” She was still talking and he realized that maybe she was on a call. Or was someone in the room? He couldn’t hear anyone else speaking, so it was safe to assume she must be on a call. Maybe her employer? He considered shutting down the shower, but she had always been secretive about her calls to the person employing her services and it was very possible she’d take the call outside of the motel room to avoid him overhearing too much. The mystery of who employed Naya had been something he could never get to the bottom of. She made it quite clear that she couldn’t reveal who her employer was, not even to him. He could admit that he’d initially been annoyed by this, wanting to know who cared about his sorry arse so much that they’d hire a lone merc to keep him in line and out of harm’s way. At least someone did care, right? Someone out there cared enough to hire someone with a fit fucking body and some far out fighting skills to keep him entertained and alive. They checked off all the boxes, whoever they were. Sometimes he did wonder if it was Stu or even Noodle, but why go through the trouble if they weren’t going to make themselves known to him? Could it be the record label he’d been dodging? Christ, who knew at this point. Just enjoy the ride, yeah?

Sighing, he shut down the shower and stepped out, grabbing a towel and throwing it around his waist. Naya was sitting on the end of the bed and going through her phone when he emerged from the bathroom. He considered speaking up, but she appeared pretty absorbed in whatever she was scrolling through on her cell so decided against it. He busied himself with getting dressed and then grabbed his cigarettes. Naya looked up at him as he walked past her, lighting his smoke and cracking open the motel room door. He wasn’t sure what their plan for the day was. They could entertain the idea of finally leaving the island. Though he hadn’t heard anything that indicated the Black Clouds had found them, it was probably best not to tempt fate in that regard. Check out and find a new place to hide out. There’d been some brief talk here or there about heading to mainland. The issue was just how they planned to get to mainland because he was digging his heels in hard against stepping foot onto a plane. She felt taking watercraft was just too risky of the Clouds were scouring the ocean surrounding the islands and he simply had no desire to step foot on an airplane because who was to say the Clouds wouldn’t decide to attack the plane! Then they were stuck on a metal deathtrap tens of thousands of miles up in the air. No thank you.

The other thing that made him hesitate at boarding a plane was his reluctance to part with the bag of pharmaceuticals and the bag of weaponry. Jokes of payoffs aside, he knew there would be very little chance of getting the bags onto the plane, especially the bag crammed full of weapons. Unless they possibly arranged a private plane? No, that was just stupid. Every airport – both commercial and private – had strict protocol one had to get through before you could even put your luggage on the belt. And what of the Cyborg? It would set off all the metal detectors and possibly whatever other alarms they had on hand that looked for out of the ordinary things. So unless Naya knew of some super shady rich arsehole willing to rent them a private plane that wouldn’t look twice at their luggage or the Cyborg, their options were quite limited.

Sure, they could just hop from island to island, but he wasn’t interested in hiding out in what amounted to a very small state with armed pirate killers hunting his arse. They’d been lucky so far, especially since he’d been able to go in and out as he pleased mostly, but he knew it would only be a matter of time before their luck ran out. The Black Clouds were still on the lookout for him. Medusa wouldn’t stop until she found him. Murdoc’s explosives had been what had killed her boss and disfigured her. She’d never been much of a looker to begin with but she was as vain as he was. Now with half her face burnt off from the blasts, there was little doubt in his mind that she was out for blood. He’d unwittingly made it all a very personal matter with the gigantic bitch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were back at that wonderfully disgusting diner. It was the middle of the week and not quite the lunch hour yet so it wasn’t as packed as it normally was. Naya was seated across from Murdoc, nursing coffee and nibbling on the remains of her chicken fried steak. He still couldn’t fathom how anyone liked breaded steak, let alone covered in that strange and bland gravy, but American fare was definitely an acquired taste. He could admit to a few dishes he’d never fully embraced. The whole deep fried everything covered in lumpy white gravy being one of them. He was pretty sure he’d seen a porn with similar outcomes. She clearly didn’t seem to mind the food because she had been eating it without issue, shoveling sloppy forkfuls of that disgusting gravy and chicken fried steak into her maw. He actually made a point not to watch her eat the dish because it made his stomach turn. Who the hell created the atrocity that was country gravy? Americans loved it on various breakfast dishes, namely that disgustingly overdone breaded steak or another popular choice – breakfast biscuits.

They kept conversation mostly light with the two of them mainly just giving each other a hard time and having a laugh about it. More serious topics had been avoided and he was pretty okay with this. His shoulder appeared to be healing nicely and they’d finally taken the stitches out. It was still a bit tender and ached a bit when he moved his arm too fast, but better than nothing. The other thing that occasionally nagged at him was the fact that she was firm in her refusal to tell him who was paying her to babysit him. Why wouldn’t she tell him? Didn’t he have a right to know these things? It was his hide someone was trying to protect so why not reveal themselves? He wasn’t sure why this pricked at him the way it did. She’d told him time and time again that she could not reveal the identity of her employer. For all he knew, this was all a ploy by the Clouds themselves. He frowned into his plate as he moved the remaining food around with his fork. “Were the Black Clouds on the American government radar also?” He knew Interpol had been sniffing around them and him when he’d originally been selling them shit, so it wasn’t too hard of a reach to assume the United States was also keeping tabs on them. Naya had certainly seemed familiar enough with them to know she’d need to keep him out of their crosshairs. His eyes surfaced from his plate when she didn’t respond right away. “What do you know about them?”

“More than you, I’m sure,” she said in a no-nonsense tone without looking up from her food. “The Black Clouds have been on law enforcement radar around the globe for at least twenty-five years. They recruit members from all around the world. The most recently departed leader, Cameron Phillips, was American and had been the leader for the better part of a decade before his death. The group deals in weaponry, drugs...whatever illicit material they can get their hands on and often use unsuspecting idiots to get said illicit materials.” She looked up from her plate of food, a strange smile on her face. “You’re not the first idiot to get tangled up with them, dude...but you’re _definitely_ the first idiot to fuck them over and live long enough to brag about it on the radio...”

Murdoc paused briefly with the ghost of a smile on his face. Damned bloody straight he was able to fuck them over! They were just one of many who had underestimated the one and only Murdoc Niccals! They probably wouldn’t be the last either. “Right, so you know them and what they’re about...what do you about the Medusa bitch?”

“Her real name is Natalia Oronova,” Naya said in a low voice. “She was born in St Petersburg in 1972. We know her father was a cop and her mother a home maker. Not much more is known about her childhood. Nothing drastic or life changing could be found so it’s assumed she most likely had a normal life and childhood. Poor, but normal. She popped up on the radar when she was about nineteen or twenty and joined the Black Clouds.” Naya grabbed a cigarette from his pack and lit it. “Started out as a bottom rung lackey, but she worked her way up the ranks. Was Cameron’s second in command until his recent death. She’s built like a brick shit house and has been mistaken for male at times by Interpol and a few other law enforcement agencies. She’s about six feet tall, muscular, squared masculine features and the right side of her face is currently sporting some bad scarring.”

“That was my doing,” he said, not bothering to hide the pride in his voice. “Set up some explosives on the island I was hiding at. It was what killed her boss...” He cracked a toothy smile, unsettled at the lack of smile in return. “Hey, that took some genius on our part to do that...and those explosives took out half the crew they’d had with them!”

Naya still didn’t smile back, her brow furrowed as she moved some of the remnants of food around on her plate. “You got lucky, dude, that’s all I can really say.”

“Lucky?” He scoffed loudly, jutting his lower lip out. Couldn’t deny the remark was a bit of a kick in the teeth. _Lucky_? He and Cyborg had wired in a dozen different explosives around the beach, ensuring that if any knuckle-dragger attempted so much as press their big toes onto his island, they’d get blown away to kingdom come. That hadn’t been _luck_. That had been days of studying explosive manuals and other documents he’d found in the darkest regions of the internet. One wrong move or one wrong wire could have meant his death! To say he was merely _lucky_ was a fucking insult!

“Yes, lucky,” Naya repeated in a firm tone, pushing her now-cleared plate aside. “How much more clear do I need to be, man? This group doesn’t fuck around. Cross them and you will spend your remaining days wondering whether or not that day is your last.”

“I’m well aware, thank you very much,” he snapped, furrowing his brow.

“Hard to tell with all the jokes you make, Niccals,” she shot back. Now she just looked annoyed with him. There was no smile, just a strangely stern look as she continued to poke at the remaining food on her plate. “Listen, dude, you can’t treat this as a joke. They will tear you limb from limb if they ever get their hands on you. I don’t want to see that happen. My employer doesn’t want to see that happen.”

“Aww, didn’t know you cared so much,” he grumbled mockingly. He kept his gaze on his own near-empty plate, not wanting to see that stern look. Such a far cry from the fun loving bird back at the resort. They’d had so much fun during their stay at the resort and it was a strange feeling to realize he missed it. He was well aware she was merely being paid to keep him in line, but there were times when it was clear her concern was based on legitimate worry and not just because he was a paycheck to her.

“I get paid quite handsomely to care, my dude,” she said, losing the edge to her voice. She fell silent when the waitress appeared beside their booth to take their plates, her hazel eyes following the portly little woman as she scuttled back towards the kitchen area. “Payment aside, you’re nowhere near as awful as my employer made you out to be.”

Murdoc perked his head up, his interest piqued. He’d gotten accustomed to Naya dismissing his sporadic inquiries about the identity of his mysterious benefactor. Was it possible to push the matter a bit and see what she might let slip? “So whoever is paying you says I’m a terrible person?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

“In so many words, yes,” she said with a shrug. “They had me read up on you to make sure I was up for the job. Warned me that all you cared about was yourself. Also said you were pretty well known for causing havoc in some way or form and bolting, leaving others to deal with your messes....Said you were brash, impulsive and beyond lewd.”

Unable to help himself, Murdoc erupted into a low and throaty chuckle. Okay, so whomever was behind his fit assassin babysitter certainly knew the basics but not enough to pin point who her employer could possibly be. Everyone knew he caused hell and left everyone else in his wake. This wasn’t news, though, because everyone fucking knew that. He’d never hid this feature. It was why he had legions of adoring fans. He was what women wanted and what men wanted to be. A god among mortals! He didn’t give a toss if what he said or did bothered anyone. He said what was on his mind and did whatever he pleased. It was the Niccals way. “Fine...sounds enough like me,” he huffed as he pocketed his cigarettes and grabbed the check from the table. “Now that you’ve had the chance to hang with me and see me for yourself...what do you think of me?”

Rising up from the table, Naya gave another shrug. “Honestly? While I do think you’re a bit of a pill on a good day, you’re not really a bad guy. You’re definitely everything I was warned about, but you have some good deep down in you. If you weren’t at least somewhat decent, would you be trying to make sure your former band-mates were okay?”

Murdoc frowned, thumbing through his wallet for some cash to leave at the table. “For all you know, I need them to make another record and make me millions, doll.”

She paused at the doors of the diner, glancing over her shoulder at him with a small smile on her face. “If it was only about work and money, you wouldn’t constantly keep checking your phone for news or watching that video of your guitarist.”

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Something was definitely wrong.

Even from across the car park, they could see something was afoot. The motel they’d been holing up at was one of those cheap road-side dives that boasted low daily, weekly and monthly rates, doubling as a cheap place to stay if you just needed to make a stop on a road trip or long term living quarters if you had questionable credit and housing history. In the ten or so days he and Naya had been staying there, they’d both grown accustomed to a few repeat faces and even the occasional police car parked out front. Places like this attracted the lower end of the human element. Murdoc had even scored some mediocre blow from some slag that lived down at an end unit. Drugs, prostitution and other petty crimes were common place. So spying what appeared to be an ambulance and some police cars didn’t quite spook them right off the bat. What spooked them was realizing that the door to their room was wide open and the police were trickling in and out of it.

“What the hell?” Naya paused briefly, scanning the motel from their place in the darkness. They were standing in the car park of a neighboring hotel, the two of them keeping themselves out of sight now between a couple of parked vehicles.

Murdoc frowned as he lit the cigarette perched on his lip. The place was swarming with police and paramedics. Whatever had happened, it involved their room as well as a few rooms just two doors down. The blow selling trollop appeared unharmed, lingering a ways back near her door as more and more people congregated around the motel to see what had happened. He could feel Naya’s hand on his arm as he inched closer, a warning noise escaping from her. He backed up a step or two, his eyes frantically scanning the scene just ahead of them. “What do you think happened?”

“Dunno,” she replied quickly, crushing out her finished cigarette beneath her trainer. “We may need to steer clear for a bit...wait until things die down.” Christ, hopefully they wouldn’t get stuck waiting out in the dark all night, huddled together on the pavement between the Prius and a rather dented Focus. Naya appeared to be thinking hard about their options, lighting herself another cigarette and inching her way towards the road. “It’s possible it was just a random break in...”

“What about the ambulance?” Even if it was a random break in, chances were that the intruder had been met by his android bodyguard. Fucking hell, had the Cyborg opened fire on some random crackhead who just happened to decide to break into their room?

“Unless we go waltzing up to them and introducing ourselves, I doubt we’re gonna find out what happened here,” she said firmly. “You didn’t leave any of your blow or whatever in the room, did you?”

Murdoc simply shook his head, patting the pocket of his jeans. Though the idea of police going through their room with a fine toothed comb unnerved him, he was confident that they wouldn’t find anything of questionable legality – with the exception of the Cyborg. The bag of weapons was hidden away behind the heater grate in the bathroom and any drugs scored were always kept on his person. The room itself would reveal nothing other than a couple of road weary travelers making a brief stop to rest up. Hopefully the Cyborg was able to make sure the cat didn’t get loose. Christ, what if the little bugger ran out in terror and lost to him forever? As much as it pained him to admit it, Murdoc had grown quite attached to the little fucking furball. Poor little bastard was probably beside himself with all the chaos that had unfolded over the last month or so or however long it had been since they’d all been unceremoniously ousted from his comfortable condo.

They continued to watch the spectacle ahead, catching sight of the occasional police officer exiting their motel room and one of the more familiar faces of the dive talking animatedly with someone over by the ambulance. Naya frowned at the scene before them and it was clear by the expression on her face that she was thinking. They definitely needed to get to the room so they could gather their belongings, but Murdoc wasn’t sure just how they planned to do this without really attracting attention. And what if the police discovered something in the room that had been overlooked? He was quite protective of his drugs so he was confident they would have found nothing in that regard, but what about the weapons? Sure, stowing them into the heater vent was smart in a pinch, but if the bacon patrol was really going through that room, it was entirely possible they may come across it. And didn’t he keep the Ruger tucked between the mattress and boxspring on his side of the bed? Fuck all the demons of hell, they might as well just left a list of their ill dealings on the desk by the bolted down telly!

“Stay here,” Naya said abruptly, pulling her thick curls into a haphazard bun on the top of her head. He wasn’t sure what exactly she had in mind, but he’d gladly just sit back and let her handle it. Easier to let her go in to do or say whatever she needed in order to ensure they were safe to be back at their room. He watched as she walked ahead, gesturing and waving at the two uniformed police officers who appeared to be sitting on their thumbs next to their squad car.

Murdoc remained in the darkness between the two cars, watching as Naya chattered away at the two uniformed officers, gesturing towards their room. Though he couldn’t hear what was being said, her friendlier tone did not escape him. The shorter of the two policemen flashed a broad smile as he said something to her and she pulled her wallet out of her pocket. Showing him her identification? After looking at her opened wallet, the two police officers led her through the thick of things to the other side of the ambulance. What was going on now? Where were they taking her? He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, his eyes still on the chaotic scene outside the motel. Though hard to tell, he was certain it appeared as if things were calming down. One of the police cruisers crawled out of the motel car park and eventually pulled out onto the main road. The ambulance was closing up and the two medics who had been attending the vehicle were finally climbing into the cab.

More vehicles began to disperse, bodies now trickling away. When the ambulance pulled away, it revealed an animal control truck parked along side it and there was Naya, holding what he assumed was the blasted cat. She said something to the man standing by the passenger door of the truck cab before turning and walking towards the motel itself, slipping into their room. She emerged moments later, closing the door behind her. She continued to smile and wave at the departing cavalry that had arrived, watching now as the police officers scattered out to their vehicles. The animal control truck finally lurched out to the main road, followed by several squad cars. With everyone finally gone, she turned towards the darkness and gestured for him to come over.

He scanned around the motel as he made his way cautiously towards their room. So what had happened? Naya was lighting herself another cigarette and passing him one as he finally closed the distance between them. “We’re lucky,” she said gruffly, leaning against the wall. “Someone had been breaking into units on this side. Killed someone down towards the main office and beat the hell out of those idiots who always blare their music...the ones two doors down from us. Whoever it was got our door open also and nothing appears to be taken, but we may need to pack it up and find new lodgings.”

“Think it was the Clouds?” he asked in a low voice, lighting his new cigarette.

“Most likely,” she muttered flatly. “They didn’t steal anything out of the room and there were some items of value left out. So whoever it was...they weren’t looking for a quick buck. Poor cat got spooked, though. Be glad we approached when we did. Animal control was about to take off with him. He was still in our room, but they weren’t sure what was going on and thought maybe he was a stray...”

“Did they not see the carrier?” he asked, not bothering to hide his aggravation. The manager knew they had the cat and the fucking carrier was right there by the blasted door. Add to this the fact that the cat was found in their very room. How do you assume its a stray? “No doubt they would have taken him and then expected us to pony up more money to get him back if you hadn’t gotten to him.”

“Be glad I got him,” she fired back. “Guy driving the truck said usually once they’re secured in the vehicle, you have to make arrangements with the office to pick the animal up and you have to have proof it’s your animal. Like vet bills...something we don’t have on us at the moment.”

“Like that would have stopped me,” he cackled. “Already paid for him once. Not gonna pay again.” When Naya merely rolled her eyes and tossed away her half smoked cigarette, he did the same and followed her into the room. The room itself had been pretty much ransacked but just as Naya had said, robbery did not appear to be the motive. Some of their belongings were right there. Suitcases were opened up and clothing strewn about, but nothing gone. A bottle of valiums he kept on hand were still sitting next to the sink in the bathroom. The laptop she purchased during their stay at the resort was still by the telly. Was it possible that whomever had broken in had been interrupted?

Naya wrinkled her nose as she gathered her clothing and piled it back into her suitcase. “Can’t believe they pawed through our clothes...”

Murdoc cracked a crooked and toothy grin. “Maybe whoever it was needed some knickers to sniff?”

Scoffing loudly, Naya chucked some of her underthings at him. “Just be glad that whoever was busting into the place was gunned down by the owner of the last door they kicked in.”


End file.
